Welcome Home
by saltoftheearth
Summary: JD returns from a week off, hoping to find help and support in dealing with a harrowing experience and finding deaf ears and blind eyes instead.
1. Prologue

Ok people. I am having a horribly hard time writing the next chapter of my "Carefree No Longer" fic...so I'm going to try this other little thing that's been rattling around in my obsessed brain lately. Here's hoping it doesn't suck! Because I'm a loser and it's getting waaay late and for some reason I feel like I absolutely need to post _something - _I'm posting this tiny little prologue thingy. Apparently I can only write hugely long chapters or minuscule ones. Heh.

**Disclaimer: I don't own Scrubs or anything in or about it.**

**JD's POV**

Coming back to work after having seven days off can be a lot of things. It can be depressing if you've just spent a week scuba diving off the coast of the island of Crete and sipping apple martinis by the light of the a clear starry sky. It can be relieving if those seven days were spent mourning your Jewish Aunt that died in a boating accident and you have had enough bagels and family bonding to last until Christ's return...only your Jewish so you don't believe in Christ's return. It can be joyous even if those seven days were spent touring the castles of Europe and hiking in the Highlands of Scotland when you're coming back to a job you love and friends you missed.

I guess for me it's a mixture of all those things. Throw in fear, anxiety, and uncertainty and I think you'd just about have it right. I feel like I've been at war over seas for two years and am coming home for the first time and I don't know what kind of reception I'm going to get. This is the longest I've ever been away from this place. Since I've met him it's the longest I've gone without talking to Turk. This was my first real vacation. A whole week. It impressed me so much I don't think I'll ever take a vacation again.

I adjust my backpack and grab a hold of the shoulder straps. Well, there it is. Sacred Heart. It looks the same as always. A glance at my watch tells me that I've lingered out here for long enough. It's time to go in there and start my day. I hope I haven't forgotten anything. The best thing to do is just jump in with both feet.

"It's only been seven days." I tell myself out loud. "It's not like anything has changed."

Except me.


	2. Chapter 1: My first day back jitters

**Disclaimer: I don't even own the computer I'm typing on so can it, Sally Sues A Lot **

**JD's POV **

As I walk slowly through the lobby, I wonder whom I'm going to see first. I've really missed everyone. I feel like I've been away for a month. I can't wait to get a Chocolate Bear hug, and an Elliot hug, and a Carla hug. Maybe I'll even get that Dr. Cox hug once I tell everyone how my vacation went. I wonder what they'll say, how they'll react. Maybe the janitor will even back off for a while if I tell him. I don't think I'm exactly prepared to go sharing intimate details of my life with him, though. Oh, well. Lavern will make sure he knows. She'll make sure everyone knows. Oh God. What if they know already? I can feel my face burning just thinking about that. I look around at the various staff members and patients around the lobby. I feel paranoid, like they're all looking at me.

Oh, calm down. They don't know. Unless it was on the news or someone read it in the paper or something...I don't remember seeing anything though. It doesn't matter anyway. At least if people already knew I wouldn't have to go through the process of telling everyone. I would have thought Turk would have called though if he heard. Oh yeah...I don't have a cell phone anymore, or my pager. I haven't hooked the phone up in my new apartment yet, so...basically I've been completely unreachable.

My new apartment...I just want to take a nap just thinking about it. Not only do I still have to unpack from my "trip", I also have to unpack from moving! I guess that's what I get for deciding to move into my own apartment the day before a week long vacation. Man, sometimes I truly am an idiot.

Looks like I have the locker room to myself. I change quickly. It's too quiet and empty in here. Right about now I'm due for some human contact. I swing my locker door shut a little too forcefully.

BANG!

The sound causes me to flinch and freeze in place until the echoes fade away. Despite my rapid heartbeat, I put a smile on my face and walk briskly out the door and to the elevator. It's all right. Just the locker door. Everything's fine.

The elevator door opens to reveal the janitor in his usual position - leaning cockily on his mop handle. It's like he knew that I would be boarding the elevator at that exact moment. I think he must have placed a homing device on me somewhere. Maybe in my neck...or my lower back...hmmm. Oddly enough, it's good to see him. So, I smile genuinely at him as I move to stand next to him.

"Mornin' Janitor."

"Welcome back, Scooter."

My smile widens. Well, there. He said something nice to me. Maybe he even missed me! I knew we could be friends.

"Thanks, buddy!" I fling my arm around his shoulder, only to have him shove it off.

"Too much?"

"Too much."

Ok, well, I guess we still have a little bit to work on there. He's coming around though. I'm sure of it.

Next stop, the nurses' station. My face is burning again. You know when you haven't seen a friend in a while and you find yourself getting all nervous thinking about your reunion? I don't know why I'm so nervous. It hasn't been _that _long, but still. What if I missed everyone else more than they missed me? What if no one even realized I was gone? What if I act really differently and my friends don't want to be my friends anymore now that I've changed? What if I'm not different at all and they were hoping I would be, miraculously, and they _still_ don't want to be my friends?

I shake my head and try to walk confidently up to Carla and Lavern. My whole insides are all jittery! I'm afraid I'm going to start simultaneously laughing and crying as soon as they look at me. Oh my God, oh my God. I can't wait for that Carla hug!! Do I tell her the whole story right away? Do I wait until we're all on break and just say my hellos for now and get right to work? How does this sort of thing work? I don't want to take up anyone's time if they're really busy. Oh, who am I kidding...I'll probably just blurt everything out like I always do until someone listens to me. Why do I do that?

"Bambi! Welcome back!"

"Heyyy, Carla!"

Awww...here we are. That's the hug I've been needing. It feels so nice, I want to stay like this forever. Oops, she's ready to let go now. I think I held on a little too long. Oh well, I don't care. I needed it.

"It's so good to have you back, you don't even know. It's been _so_ crazy around here. The janitor has been driving us all crazy since you weren't here to torment. And don't get me started on Perry. Not to mention the rampage that Kelso has been on..." she gets this really angry expression on her face and starts ranting in Spanish. I have no idea what she's saying. I'm just staring at her with wide eyes. Wow. I guess it hasn't been the best week around here. It couldn't have been _all_ my fault could it? Great, now I feel badly for not being here.

"Good morning Lavern! You're looking lovely today. Are those new scrubs?" That's it, JD. Win them over with your boyish charm.

Lavern looked up with that look that told me that she wasn't buying it and she had no intention of ever buying it.

"Ok. I'll just take that as a 'Good morning to you too, JD'." I laughed a nervous laugh. So, this wasn't going as well as I had hoped.

"Don't cry to me, q-tip. Cry to Jesus."

Ooookkkk. No teary eyed reunion from Lavern then.

Carla's still talking to herself in Spanish as Elliot comes walking up beside me, looking flustered and talking to herself. She's frantically looking through the charts on the counter. I just lean back with a smile and wait for her to notice that I'm here. It's so good to see her, even if she is half out of her mind. I wonder how Dr. Cox has been to her since I left her here alone with our interns. He's probably been a grade A ass. Poor Elliot. I'll never leave you again! Wow. I'm surprised I didn't accidentally say that out loud.

"Oh my word...Carla have you seen Mr. Henderson's chart? I can't find it anywhere and I can't remember what dosage he was on and-" Elliot is flailing her arms around and accidentally knocks a stack of charts she was just looking through off the desk. They clatter to the floor noisily. "FRICK!"

She stands there for a moment with her hands in her hair looking like she's about to snap. I feel so bad for her. It doesn't look like she's having the best day. I wonder if she's just starting her shift or what? I bend down to pick up the charts, not even remembering that we haven't even said our hellos yet. I place them on the counter carefully and turn to smile at Elliot.

"Thanks, JD," she breathes. "This has been the worst week. I can't wait to go home today and just soak in a nice hot bath."

"You and me both." Carla sighs, then hands Elliot a chart. "Here's Mr. Henderson's chart, sweetie."

Elliot grabs the chart greedily then hugs it to her chest like it's the most precious gift ever. "Thank you so much Carla! You saved my life!" Then without another word to me she dashed off down the hallway.

"Bye, Elliot. It's good to see you. I missed you." I whispered to the air. And just like that my smile began to falter. I could feel my face burning again, and this time it was accompanied by a small lump in my throat.

It's ok. She's just really busy, no thanks to me. I want to tell her that I would have liked nothing more than to have been here myself. Even if it was a workweek from hell, it still would have beat the week I had. I'll tell her later. We can vent to each other. Maybe we'll grab pizza, just the two of us, like old times, and we can sit on boxes in my apartment and talk until our lives sort themselves back out. Oh yeah, she just said all she wants to do is soak in the tub when she's done her shift. Maybe tomorrow then?

My face must be giving away my disappointment at my "welcome back greeting" from Elliot, because Carla was suddenly standing next to me with her hand on my arm. I turned to her and smiled. Ah, Carla. I can always count on her when I need someone.

"Don't worry about it, Bambi. This week's just been a little crazy for everyone. Give her a little bit and she'll come around."

"Yeah. Thanks, Carla."

I really want to just unload on her, but judging by the way things look around here, now's not the time. Carla gives me a kiss on the cheek before getting back to her own heavy workload. I stand there for a moment and just look around. Everyone is zooming around, lost in their own worlds. All of a sudden I feel very lonely and out of place. I guess I wasn't going to get the great big welcome home party that I had pictured in my head. No banners or streamers for me. I sigh and rub my neck. That's fine. It's not like we usually do that sort of thing. I don't know why it would be any different for me. It's not like I'm so hugely special. I guess I was hoping for something bigger because of the week I had. But then again...I haven't had a chance to tell anyone about it. For all they know I just spent a largely uneventful week with my family. Heh. I wish.

Something hit me in the back...hard. Ow. What the hell? I look up to see Dr. Cox standing next to me and I realize that it was his hand clapping me hard on my back. I can't help it, my smile instantly returns to my face. Dr. Cox will listen to me, won't he?

"Susan! You're back. I would say that I'm happy to see you, but since your absence this week has made my life a living hell - I can not in fact say that I'm happy to see you because frankly, Newbie - I'm trying very hard not to rip your head off your neck and punt it off the roof. So, whaddya say we skip the whole 'oh it's been so long, I missed you so much! I missed you, too! Let's go to lunch and tell each other about our weeks and french braid each other's hair!' thing and just try to avoid each other for the rest of the day, hmmm, Susan? Oh, and you know, I bet you're feeling that 'I need a vacation from my vacation' phenomenon - but I'd really just assume you _not_ stand there like a lost puppy crying over the fact that your owners moved away while you were gone and took your little pink dog house that looks like the Barbie Mansion and your favorite mohair doggy bed with the perfect butt mold with them, and actually, oh I don't know, do some _work_."

Dr. Cox sneers at me and walks away muttering to himself until he disappears down the hallway.

For a second I'm in utter shock, just standing there as the smile I had plastered on my face slowly drops away. And then for another terrifying second I am quiet sure my chin is going to start to quiver since that pesky lump as returned. Ok - what do I normally do in situations such as this? This is Dr. Cox after all. It's not like he's the kind of guy to roll out the red carpet for me and grab me by my face, giving me a kiss on each cheek before wrapping me in a huge Dr. Cox hug while weeping and crying out, "My son! My son you've come home! Come now, let us adjourn to the study where you may sit on my lap and tell me all about your journey. Spare me no details, my lad. I am here for you."

Whoa...got a little carried away there. Ok, so that would never happen. Would it have killed him to at least say "Hey, Newbie, welcome back"? He did have a point, though. I am standing here like a useless moron while everyone else seems ready to rip their hair out. Maybe he'll calm down and ask me about my week later. He'll come through. He wouldn't have said those things if he had known. Poor guy, I kind of feel guilty knowing that he's going to feel really bad about treating me that way after what happened. I'll have to make sure he knows that I understand and I'm not mad. A little heartbroken maybe, but not mad.

Well, JD. Time to dive in headfirst. Or hands first, because no one dives in headfirst do they? Ah well, here we go. This is just what the doctor ordered...heh heh heh...I am a doctor. I'm just going to throw myself in, get acquainted with my patients and be as busy as possible so that maybe everyone would stop being mad at me for ruining their week. I wonder where Turk is. I can't believe I haven't even seen my Chocolate Bear yet. Oh well, I'll see him eventually. He'll give me a hug and ask about my week. It'll get better. It has to.

* * *

**Authors note: Another short, completely uneventful, utterly boring chapter – sorry people! It'll get better….I hope. So, just as a bit of a set up. I'm thinking this is set during Season 5 and JD has moved out of Elliot's apartment because she's getting so close with Keith. I don't know if any of that makes sense. I hope so. Okie dokie. I guess that's about it. Bye!**


	3. Chapter 2: My Hour of Disappointment

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything on any tv. I don't even own a tv. **

**JD's POV (as usual)**

Once I started working with my patients my day got progressively better. My bounce was back in my step. I felt like myself again. I felt like everything was going to be ok. Smiling was easy. Acting chipper and peppy was easy. I just kept moving along as fast as my legs would take me. I was on a roll and feeling like nothing could slow me down. I almost didn't want to break for lunch because I didn't want to break up the pace I had set for myself. It was just so refreshing to be back, to be doing the work I loved. It hadn't even occurred to me that the real appeal to working like a horse was the distraction it provided. Not until Dr. Cox walked past me, whistled, and told me to go on break. I was forced to stop.

It wasn't an instantaneous change. It wasn't like someone flicked a switch or snapped their fingers. My first step down came while I was on my way to cafeteria. Nothing happened really, nothing in particular. It was just the meandering walk with no big decisions to make and nothing to do with my hands that did something to me. My chest felt heavier somehow. Once again, during that small trek I felt out of place and alone. I tried to ignore it by smiling at everyone I passed. The first day back was bound to be a little awkward anyway...especially considering what I was coming back from.

My mood brightened some when I saw two of my favorite people sitting at the same table in the cafeteria - Turk and Carla. I was still buzzing from my frenzy of activity this morning and I wasn't hungry yet so I just grabbed some coffee and a pudding that I wasn't even in the mood for, and went to join them. By the time I got there I was so excited to see Turk (whose back was to me so he didn't know I was there) that I almost dropped my coffee and pudding into the nearest trashcan just so I could attack him with a bone crushing hug. As it was, I had to come around the table in order to put my stuff down first, and then attack him.

"Chocolate Bear!" I don't care that I sound _way_ too excited about seeing a fellow male. He doesn't seem to care either, since he beamed at me and jumped up to catch me in a bone crushing hug of his own.

"JD! Whatz up, dog?!"

"Oh, you know...first day back..." I can't stop smiling. It's so good to see him.

"Crazy, isn't it? Has Dr. Cox threatened your life yet?"

I laugh, "Um, yeah a little bit. I'd like to think it was his way of saying 'Hey, JD. I really missed you. It's good to have you back.'" I laugh some more.

Turk got this funny look on his face that told me I was waaayy off. Geeze. Maybe Dr. Cox really meant what he said to me earlier.

"Dude. You should have seen him this week. I think he cursed your very existence in five different ways daily. It was actually kind of fun waiting to see what he would come up with each day...but, and I'm telling you this because I love you and I want to protect you...I think you are seriously on Dr. Cox's shit list right now. Be careful."

I've heard versions of this speech from nearly everyone in the hospital too many times to count over the years and sadly, I rarely paid them any attention. This time was a little different. I mean, don't get me wrong - I am fully aware that given my track record the odds are good that I will in fact approach him at the exact wrong time and say the exact wrong thing at some point today. But this time instead of allowing the news to roll off my shoulders or to take the whole thing with a grain of salt, I actually take it to heart. I mean, literally. I had a heart sink. My buzz dropped another notch, my mood dipped a little lower. I tried to keep a smile on my face non-the-less.

"So, J-Dizzle. Tell me about your week. Did you have a good vacation?"

Ah! He asked! Someone actually asked about my week. Here's my chance to let it all out and get it out of my head. The cafeteria isn't the most ideal place for this, but at this point I'll take what I can get. I really need to talk about it. I take a deep breath.

"Well, actually it was the worst-"

"Hey guys." Elliot sat down with a loud sigh. "I think I'm going to sleep forever when I get home tonight."

"Me, too." For some reason I hadn't really noticed how tired Carla looked slouched down in the booth. Well, she is pregnant. She must be exhausted all the time. My mom always told me that the First Trimester was the most exhausting.

I glance over at Elliot. She didn't appear to have noticed me, yet. She slid down in the booth and rested her head on Carla's shoulder, who in turn rested her head on Elliot's head. Both girls had their eyes closed. She had unknowingly interrupted me, but I felt really awkward starting my story now with the girls as half a sleep as they were. They looked so cute. I wish I had a blanket that I could throw over them. If I were stronger I would pick Elliot up and carry her into the on call room. I bet Keith could do it. Stupid Keith with his stupid muscles.

Another heart sink. Why did Keith bother me so much? Why do I care that I don't have big muscles or a perfectly constructed face? But I did. Dr. Cox is right. I am a girl.

Speaking of Dr. Cox, he decided to make his entrance at that moment when I was preoccupied with Keith's chiseled perfection. Thank God he can't read my thoughts.

"He might not be able to, Bambi, but I can. And I wouldn't worry about it - lots of women are turned off by defined arms and rock hard abs. You're fine."

I shriek inside my head, but quickly recover from staring at her with a look of fear and smile at her instead.

"Thanks, Carla!"

"No problem, Bambi." She's giving me that motherly smile and pats me on my hand.

Elliot suddenly opened her eyes and picked her head up off of Carla's shoulder.

"Oh my God. I left Lisa alone with 'Mr. McFeely'!" She gestured with air quotation marks when she said Mr. McFeely. Why do the female doctor's always get stuck with the pervs? She shot up from her seat and started to run off, but suddenly spun around and came back to the table.

"JD! Welcome back!" She yelled even though I was sitting right in front of her. She kissed me on my cheek and turned back around to dart out of the cafeteria. She looked like a hummingbird. I tall, thin, blonde hummingbird.

I chuckle softy and raise my hand in a wave that she's not around to see. That poor girl. I hope she does get that bath tonight, even though I would rather be eating pizza with her while staring at the unpacked boxes in my apartment. Oh well. I'm sure we'll find a night soon when we can catch up.

"Baby, I have to get back to work. Give me a kiss."

I watch with a smile as Turk and Carla happily kissed each other in the booth. Carla squeezed my hand and stood up to leave.

"See ya." I wave again to her retreating form.

It was just Turk and I now. Dr. Cox had chosen to sit a few tables away by himself. I wish he would have joined us. Maybe I should invite him over.

"Not a good idea, bro."

Wow. When did Turk develop the ability to read minds?

"I'm serious, JD. He will kill you. Just let him have his space."

Another heart sink. Why is he so mad at me? What did I do? I'm entitled to a vacation, aren't I? A vacation. Another heart sink. Some vacation that turned out to be.

"I'm glad you had a good week, JD. I'll talk to you later - I've been tagged to go ask Dr. Kelso for a men's bathroom remodel with colored urinals and a disco ball. Catch ya!"

What? I am numbly staring off into space as he slaps me in the shoulder and walks off, leaving me alone with my thoughts. What in the world just happened? What did I say that made him think I had a good week? This was supposed to be my chance to unload. To let go. I honestly don't know how much longer I can stand it, having it all rattling around in my head. Who could I go to that will listen to me? I glance at Dr. Cox whose back is to me a few tables away. I swallow. If Turk hadn't put the fear of Cox into me, I would have thought this was fated. We're both here alone in the cafeteria. I always go to him. Why can't I go to him now? Maybe Turk was exaggerating. Maybe he misinterpreted Dr. Cox's threats.

I throw away my untouched pudding and bring my coffee over to his table. I haven't touched the coffee yet, either. Suddenly a thought occurs to me - a way to put me back into his good graces.

"I brought you some coffee, Dr. Cox." I smile - not that it matters, he's not looking at me anyway - and slide into the booth across from him.

He slowly raises his head and fixes his eyes on me. Ok, so he looks a wee bit hostile. No big deal. That's how he always looks. Don't let it deter you.

"How's your day going?"

His eyes don't move from mine, but he reaches forward slowly to grab the coffee cup and takes a sip. Ok. Not in the mood to talk. That's ok. I really just need someone to listen, anyway. I swallow.

"So, I hear it's been kind of a crazy week..."

Still no response. He just takes big gulps of coffee. Ok.

"My week was pretty crazy, too. I was actually hoping I could ta-"

Dr. Cox stands up abruptly and crushes the coffee cup that amazingly enough doesn't appear to have much liquid left in it. Wow. Guzzler.

A low growl erupts from his chest. He's the only person I know that can growl like an animal and still keep his dignity. He's a rock star!

"Maybe we can talk later?" I sound so hopeful, even I want to roll my eyes at how pathetic and desperate I sound. I don't really need to, though. Dr. Cox does it for me. Actually, he doesn't so much roll his eyes as narrows them to tiny slits, while running his tongue across his front teeth to do that teeth sucky thing he does when he's pissed. He then throws the crumpled up coffee cup at me - hitting me in the face. I flinch and drop my eyes to the table as my heart takes another large step down to my stomach. I sense more than see him walk away. I fold my hands in my lap and keep my head down. My eyes are getting a little glassy and my chest feels tight.

This isn't the way this was supposed to go. I was supposed to come back to find help - to friends and comfort. I was supposed to find a listening ear and words of comfort and wisdom…not this. No one seemed to want to listen to me. Then again, I guess I'm usually more persistent than this. There have been times when I would have jumped up and followed Dr. Cox out of the room prattling in his ear, even after he threw a coffee cup at my face. Instead I am frozen to this booth. My face is burning with shame, my chest is aching with pent up emotion, and my vision is blurring over with unshed tears. I'd say that things have been better. However, I know for a fact that things could be a lot worse. I've seen worse. That's the problem. I'm kind of haunted by worse.

I take a few deep breaths and stand up to leave. I keep my head down until I'm back on my floor. My eyes and heart feel so heavy I'm afraid that every patient I see will take one look at my face and think I'm bringing them the worst news. That's it then. I can't do my work like this.

And just like that, I lift my head and breathe out through my nose one more time. I tell myself I am releasing all of that heaviness with that breath. It kind of works. I do feel lighter. I blink a few times to chase away whatever emotions may have been lingering there and force my mouth into a smile. I smooth down my scrubs, clear my throat, and grab the next chart off the counter and head off to my next patient's room. Break over. Time to wind myself back up and plow through the rest of the day. Maybe Turk will want to get a few drinks later and we can talk then.

I perk up almost the instant I enter my next patient's room.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Johnson." Hee hee, Mrs. _Johnson._ "Let's see, you've been experiencing some stomach irritation and shortness of breath?" I look up at her and smile.

"You have brown liquid on your face."

* * *

**Author's note: So, my chapters are _way_ shorter this time. I'm just so antsy to update I can't help it! The biggest problem with that is the story doesn't move along as quickly from chapter to chapter. I guess in the end, it still takes the same amount of writing to keep the story progressing, so in a way it's the same pace either way. Maybe I can think of this as quicker glances as opposed to a long look. This story is still in the baby stages in my own head, so I fear that fact is affecting the writing in a very negative way, but oh well. I hope someone likes it anyway.**


	4. Chapter 3: My Sticky Situation

Author's Note: I'm sorry "Carefree No Longer" fans! I didn't mean to update this one before updating _that _one. Never fear, I am about half way through chapter 10 and I'm hoping to update sometime next week. Don't get too excited about it, though. It's pure rubbish.

**Disclaimer: I don't own these people. They don't even exist you morons **

**_JD's dream in italics_**

**JD's POV**

* * *

"Turk, do you want to go get a couple drinks or something?"

"Naaa, man. Maybe some other time this week. I'm beat. It's been a rough couple of days. Besides, Carla will be home tonight and she's been having some serious pregnancy cravings. I'm afraid to leave her alone. She might kill me if I'm not around to bring her whatever it is she wants. Last night all she wanted was black olives and horseradish sauce!" Turk shuddered and stared off into space for a few seconds.

"Oh, that's ok. I really should unpack anyway so I'm not staring at a bunch of boxes. You should come over and see the new place sometime."

I was really disappointed that I wasn't going to be hanging out with Turk tonight. I almost invited myself over to their place, but hearing about Carla and her pregnancy cravings just made me feel like I would be in the way. This is a special time for them. They probably want to experience all of this stuff together. I've been smothering them enough over the years. It probably is time for me to back off a little bit and give them some space. I wasn't lying to Turk, either. I really do need to unpack. I don't even know where my dishes are. Did I remember to turn the refrigerator on?

"Hey baby, you ready to go home?"

Carla and Turk are hugging and kissing again. They're so happy together. It makes me smile. They're the healthiest couple I know.

"You guys have a good night."

"You too Bambi. I'm glad you're back."

Carla kissed me on the cheek and hugged me. It felt so nice. She's going to be such a good mom. She's going to love her children so much. I can't wait to see them as parents.

I waved at them as they walked out the door with their arms around each other. I guess I should get going too. I have a lot I should be doing tonight. I just wish someone could be there with me while I unpacked - keep me company. I'm probably being a baby about all of this, but I just need someone to talk to. I don't want to be alone right now. I don't even have a phone right now to call anyone if I could think of anyone to call. This sucks.

"Night, JD. Sorry I've been such a poop today. I'm glad you're back."

Elliot appeared from somewhere behind me, rubbed my arm while she talked, and walked out the door. She may not have heard my reply,

"Yeah, uh...goodnight."

It was such a well crafted reply too.

I felt the same way I did at lunch. I felt weighed down and almost foreign. Come to think of it, I remember feeling this same feeling of alienation when I first started here five years ago. Only then it was accompanied by huge amounts of fear and anxiety. It made sense to feel like that then. First day of a new job, you don't know anyone, you're the new guy. But back then there was a whole group of us going through the same thing. Even though we felt like we shouldn't be here, we had each other to cling to. Right now I feel so much alone, and I'd like nothing more than to cling to someone. Even if it was only for 20 minutes - just long enough to talk.

I chew on my top lip as I slowly walk to out of the lobby and over to Sasha, my faithful scooter. Then I just stand there for a while with my hand on my helmet. I think now that the big rush of the day is over and I've stopped moving I have lost all energy. I guess it's a good thing Turk didn't want to go out, I'm pretty wiped myself. I did work like a madman today. I haven't had a day like this in a long time. I didn't goof off once! I didn't even have a full lunch break, and that was the only time I wasn't doing anything directly patient related. It felt good. I had accomplished a lot.

Only now I guess I'm paying the price since I feel like I could just fall over right here in the parking lot and go to sleep. Sleep. Damn it, I don't even have a bed yet. I guess I'll be sleeping on the floor. I close my eyes and groan. Tonight should be great fun then. Sorting through boxes in an empty, silent apartment and then curling up on the floor. There is something extremely pathetic about that.

"You're just going to stand there all night, Cindy? Or are you actually going to hop on your tricycle there and peddle your chubby little legs off all the way home?"

AH! I jump a little. Did I scream out loud? God, I hope not. Great, it's Dr. Cox. What he said wasn't anything out of the ordinary (for him), but I really think his tone was actually quite a bit more biting than normal. I would assume I'm imaging things, but he's been extremely hostile all day to me. So, no. Probably not imaging it. Even so, I really have to fight off the urge not to try one more time to find some company for myself, someone to talk to.

I'm not used to biting my tongue, so this is actually really, really hard. It results in me just standing there, not turning around or saying anything to him at all. So I'm sure that makes me look even more like a losery weirdo. Oh, this is ridiculous. Just say good night to the man and go home.

"Have a good night, Dr. Cox."

Oh Lord, is it me or did my voice just crack? Could this possibly get any worse?! I'm pretty sure I outwardly cringe as I finally pull myself onto Sasha and strap on my helmet. I haven't even looked at him during this lovely interaction, and I'm too embarrassed to look at him now, so I just drive off.

* * *

**Early the next morning...**

_I get out of my car and stretch my legs. It's nearing sunset, I'll have to turn the headlights on after I'm done gassing up. I yawn and grab the pump. I'm about to slide my debit card when I notice the big CASH ONLY sign glaring at me. That's just great. I didn't bring that much cash with me. I sigh and look at the dump of a gas station and walk inside._

_"Do you have an ATM here?"_

_"No. Try the bank down the street. You better hurry though, their drive-up window is under construction so you'll have to use the ATM inside. They're closing in 7 minutes."_

_"Great, thanks!"_

_I jog out to my rental car and head off down the road toward the bank._

_"Ohh, a 24 hours Travel Plaza!"_

_Even though the gas is a couple cents more, I decide that I'd rather just pull in there since I'm positive they'd except my debit card and I'd rather not bother with an ATM - especially if you can't just drive up to it. Besides, I bet this place as a slushie machine inside! Blue raspberry slushie here I come!_

_I fill up, spilling a little bit of gas on my hand. Good thing this is a travel center, which means there is a bathroom and I can wash the smell off my hand. But that doesn't mean I can't breathe in the fumes on my way to the bathroom, right? Ahhh...I love the smell of gasoline._

_I walk into the convenience store. Man this place is AWESOME! It's way too bright, but it has one of those grabby machines where you put in a quarter and the claw thing grabs you a toy or stuffed animal. Maybe I can get Turk something. And they do have a slushie machine! Oh my word...they even have Mountain Dew slushies! I might explode. Don't giggle out loud you freak. There might not be that many people here, but no one looks like they have a sense of humor. _

_I look around and take note of the various patrons and cashiers. Seriously, everyone has a scowl on their face, except for the girl behind the counter at the Subway over there. She's flirting with some young punk and looks quite pleased with herself. Ah, well. At least they're smiling. Maybe I'll get a sandwich after I wash my hands and see if she'll flirt with me. Oh, man. That's so pathetic, JD. She's probably only 17 years old._

_I find the bathroom in the corner of the store. Cool. It even has a shower in here! This place is awesome. I want to take a road trip and stop at every Travel Center I come to and try out all the showers. Maybe I'll write a book about the differences in water pressure at Travel Centers across the US. Nice. I'll make a fortune!_

_Ok, now that my hands smell like freshly shredded coconut instead of gasoline, it's time for that sandwich._

_I'm too busy staring in awe at a gigantic pinball machine as I come out of the bathroom, that I'm not watching where I'm going and I bumped into someone. I hear whatever merchandise they had in their hands clatter to the ground._

_"Ooops, sorry - my bad."_

_We both bend down at the same time to pick up what he dropped and I catch his eye on the way down. Woah! Scary! Of all the people I could have bumped into, I pick the guy who looks like he's seen more fights than Rocky. He has the nastiest looking scar I've ever seen across his left cheek. I almost make some comment about how he should have had me do the stitches and he wouldn't have such a visible scar, but my mouth snaps shut when I see what looks like a mini sword dangling from his belt loop. Maybe it's just an empty case, or maybe he does a lot of fishing and that's what he uses to gut his fish. I don't really care, just being near him freaks me out. I laugh nervously and blurt out the stupidest thing possible._

_"Nice knife you got there. You fish a lot?"_

_What?? Do not engage in conversation! Do not engage! _

_He smiles a slow thin smile and glances at the knife._

_"Yeah, something like that."_

* * *

Woah - where I am, what's going on? I shoot up into a sitting position with a gasp. Everything is dark except for a band of light about 4 feet wide stretching across the floor from the window. I blink and look down at where I had been lying on the floor. Yep. That's was I figured. I guess I picked the wrong spot for my makeshift floor bed. I chose to rest my head right in the path of light. Lovely. I squint my eyes to look at the digital clock I placed on the floor by my "bed". Terrific. 3:00am. I could have slept for another 2 hours.

I sigh and decide to get up and use the bathroom. Dang it's bright out there. What is that, the moon? I walk over to the open window and look out. The moon was pretty bright, but there were also several street lights on that probably contributed to the extra brightness. I really need to get curtains. I hadn't even considered that in the ever expanding list of things I need for the apartment. I ran a hand over my face. What the hell? I bring my hand back up to my face and breathe in. Oh, good grief. For a second there I could have sworn my hand smelled like gasoline. Huh.

I shuffle my way across the room toward the bathroom. It's so bright I don't even need to turn on a light to see where I'm going. Bonus.

"OW! Shit!"

Damn it! Frickin' splinter! AHHH!

I hop on one foot over to the light switch for the bathroom and turn it on. Wow. BRIGHT! I bring my foot up and rest it on the counter. Holy, that thing is a monster! I don't even need tweezers to pull it out, and I don't really have any fingernails to grip it either. Luckily I already unpacked the hydrogen peroxide and band-aids and had placed them safely in the medicine cabinet. Yea me.

Once I'm done cleaning and bandaging up my foot, I use the toilet and wash my hands. Washing my hands made me remember the strange gasoline smell from earlier...which reminded me of what I had just been dreaming about. I feel my shoulders slump and I lean heavily against the doorframe. I rub my face again, and then purposefully smell my hand, just in case. Nope. No smell. Just my generic smelling hand soap. Now that I'm awake I can't really see the point in lying back down. I don't think I really feel like sleeping anymore. Or dreaming anymore.

I start shuffling across the floor again but remember my splinter and decide that maybe I should start picking up my feet when I walk. I guess the floor could use some area rugs as well. It's so quiet here. I feel anxious and paranoid. I wonder if Carla and Turk are awake. Maybe they'd let me talk to them now. Oh yeah...they're not here. They're 3 miles away. And most likely they are asleep, with each other. Maybe I could call Dan. Maybe he hasn't even gone to bed yet. Oh that's right. I don't have a phone yet. Damn it. I wish I still had my cell phone. This sucks.

Oh my word - Dan! I haven't even talked to him or anyone else in my family to explain why I never showed up last week. I guess since I'm phoneless I'll have to call them from the hospital. I wonder if anyone has tried to reach me all week on my cell? Maybe people aren't ignoring me quite as much as it seems like they are. I would have thought they would have said something though. Maybe I am being ignored. Maybe all it takes is a week to be forgotten.

Not knowing what else to do with myself, and finding it utterly depressing to just sit there while I felt more and more like the only person in the world - I decide to be productive and unpack some more. By the time it's 5:00 I've accomplished quite a lot and annoyingly enough am starting to get sleepy enough to lie back down. I can't though, because I have to be at work in an hour and I may as well shower and stop by Dunkin' Donuts or something on the way in since I have no food in the apartment. I didn't even eat lunch yesterday. Wait a minute. I didn't eat at all yesterday. Damn. My stomach growls as soon as the thought forms. I guess it's a little miffed at me for neglecting it.

"Sorry, tummy." I whisper to my stomach. "I promise I'll feed you soon."

Great. I'm talking to my own stomach in my empty apartment at 5:00 in the morning. I am a loser.

* * *

Here I am again, standing outside Sacred Heart. My hands are securely wrapped around the straps of my backpack, and my feet are securely glued to the pavement. I'm really tired and I'm not sure how I'm going to take Dr. Cox's bad mood today, or the janitor since he has decided to resume his reign of terror. Everyone else has been pretty much fine, though...busy and a little distant maybe, but fine. Maybe I can steal some time with Turk or Elliot or someone at lunch to talk to. My night was so quiet it'll be a relief to have actual human beings to talk to. So why you ask am I currently glued to the pavement? Well, that would be the janitor. He literally spread glue all over my regular parking spot and my sneakers are in fact, glued to the pavement. Thank you janitor.

He saluted me from inside the hospital, I can see him through the glass door. I salute back. You know, this isn't all bad. I'll have to borrow someone's shoes, of course, but...it's almost...comforting. Everything has felt so strange to me lately. It's actually quite pleasant to know that one thing hasn't changed. The janitor. He's nothing if not consistent.

"You're my one constant." I call out to the janitor even though he can't hear me from inside the hospital.

Dr. Cox just heard me say that. Awesome. Luckily for me he's decided to just ignore it and keep walking after pausing to stare at me like I'm an idiot. Lucky bastard. He's not stuck in glue. As sad it is, though...standing here trying to figure out the best way to get out of this situation, something related to a warm fuzzy feeling is settling in my chest. The janitor is at least acknowledging my existence. I'm so desperate for attention right now I would take an old fashioned Dr. Cox bash/rant fest and probably smile right on through it. Which is something I very well might earn if I don't get myself in there soon.

* * *

"Joanna, it's time for lunch. Go on, get out of here."

I take my gloves off and toss them into the garbage. I nod at Dr. Cox to show him I heard him, but he's not paying attention. I didn't get my Cox rant earlier. I usually get at least one per work shift, so there's still time. I have 7 hours left to be here. In fact that's the only thing he's said to me today that wasn't directly related to a patient. It's not entirely his fault. I haven't made much of an effort to talk to him, either. As soon as I put my stuff in my locker and got to work I found myself getting completely lost in it like I did yesterday. I was in "the zone". I chatted with Carla and Elliot a tiny bit, but mostly it's just been all business. I guess we're all feeling the crunch since it continues to be madly busy around here. Dr. Kelso has been around more than usual, too - busting balls. What's that all about? I feel like I missed something important last week. The bits and pieces I've picked up on made it sound like it was a week from hell for basically the entire hospital. I was in my own version of hell, but, no one knows that. Apparently everyone had just assumed that my vacation was fabulous and are content to just leave it at that. Maybe I'll try to bring it up at lunch. I wonder who's going to be around.

Ok, here I am in the cafeteria and none of the usual crew is here yet. So, I grab some food that doesn't look particularly appetizing and snag a booth over by the windows in case other people show up and want to sit with me. I push around some peas on my plate absent mindedly and realize that I never did stop at Dunkin' Donuts this morning, and therefore haven't eaten in...41 hours? Shit. I'm not even hungry. I look away from my food and stare out the window. Without thinking about it I pull my knees up to my chest, my feet now perched on my seat. I fold my arms across the top of my knees and keep staring out the window.

It's a beautiful day out there. That should make me happy. I can't really pinpoint my mood, but it's not really happy. I guess I feel...pensive. I keep picturing my lonely, depressing apartment with the bad lighting and bare windows and walls. I need curtains and lamps. I need area rugs. Maybe tonight I'll find the worst spots of the wood floor and figure out how many rugs I'll need to cover the more splintery spots. I'll need those lamps first though, so I can see it better. How much are lamps? How much money do I have right now? Oh shit. I haven't gotten my new debit card yet. My bank will be closed so I can't go in there to get cash out. I think I have $25. I bet I could find at least one lamp with that. This sucks. Living on your own sucks.

Someone drops a mug of coffee on the floor a few tables away. It lands with a loud BANG, followed by the sounds of dozens of porcelain pieces scattering all over the tile floor. A burning, panic sensation instantly floods my system. I don't yell out. I flinch violently as my throat constricts. I know what it is because I can hear people reacting to it. I know it's just a coffee mug, but it doesn't matter. It's too late. My heart is beating a mile a minute and all I can do is squeeze my eyes closed and place my hand over my heart - as though that's going to sooth it, slow it down. My jaw is clenched. This is over reacting. This is silly. This is out of my control. Behind my closed lids there is a flash of light and a memory begins playing...

_There's a loud crash as the window behind me breaks. I can feel glass shards lightly spray against my back and bounce off onto the floor. Someone screams. I look over to see a middle aged woman, standing a few feet away from me weeping with her eyes closed tightly. She's losing it. Everyone's losing it. The man in front of me is definitely losing it. He's yelling at the woman to stop crying and to shut the hell up. I look down at the blood on my hands..._

"Hey, buddy? How's my Vanilla Bear?" Turk's booming, cheerful voice takes me out of my daydream. My eyes snap open and this time I do yell out when he slaps me on my shoulder. He makes a joke of it, laughs and holds up his hands in surrender as he slides into the booth across from me. I'm surprised and relieved he doesn't make a big deal out of my reaction, but then again, why would he? I'm always zoning out and screaming like a girl. For my part, I'm having a really hard time coming back to my present reality. All my muscles are burning like I've been working out for 3 hours straight. I can feel my cheeks burning and my eyes are a little watery. My arms are shaking slightly, but I doubt that's visible. I can tell my eyes are open wide. I look around like a paranoid freak for moment, trying desperately to breathe normally.

"Hey..." I manage to breathe out. I feel like I can't look him in the eye yet, for fear he'll be able to tell just how freaked out I am. So, Instead I look down and notice my knuckles are turning white from clutching the edge of the booth so hard. My knees are still drawn up to my chest. I feel like a child. I swallow and blink until I think it's safe and look up at Turk and flash him a smile. He's shoveling his food in his mouth. I guess I don't have to bother with the big, fake smile - he's not looking at me anyway. I slowly lower my feet back down to the floor.

"Oh, man. This has been the craziest day, dog. Dr. Wen has asked me to assist on every one of his procedures today. I've been going non-stop, which is _awesome _because I've got to do some really amazing surgeries today and I really think I've impressed Dr. Wen with my amazing God-like hands!"

Turk shovels another fork full of food into his mouth and hold up his hands, turning them around so I could see both the front and back. He _does_ have amazing God-like hands.

"The crappy part of today though is that at the end of my shift I also have to go over all of my charts and make sure everything is legible and there aren't any mistakes. I tell you what, JD. You are sooo lucky you weren't here last week. This audit has everyone running around like madmen. I can't wait for this to be over."

"What audit? Nobody said anything to me about an audit."

Turk swallows another mouthful. I suppose I should eat something, so I take a forkful of peas.

"You mean Dr. Cox hasn't been on your back for the past couple of days?"

Dr. Cox has barely been speaking to me the past couple of days. I shake my head no and watch Turk finish off his plate. Man - that has got to be some kind of record.

Turk shrugs and guzzles down some water. "Well, last Monday Dr. Kelso announced that there would be a huge licensing audit. I guess 'the suits' will be here sometime over the next several days. He's been barking orders to everyone all last week. Everything needs to be completely in order: charts, patient files, archived files, personnel files, everything. They're even going to be looking at staff performance and doing interviews with two members of each department, selected at random. So Dr. Kelso has been handing out questions and answers for everyone to memorize. He hasn't given you yours yet?"

I shake my head no again. I'm beginning to get the feeling that I really have been forgotten. I should feel thankful that I haven't had to put up with Dr. Kelso's crap or Dr. Cox's threats, but instead I feel very much alone. Maybe everyone's just so busy preparing for this that they simply don't have the time to hold my hand and walk me through the audit's procedures. They probably already have too much on their plates to bother filling me in. Of course, they could also have just decided I'm not worth the bother - that I'm a lost cause and that no amount of hand holding is going to help me.

Turk's beeper goes off. "Oh, it's Dr. Wen. Time for my 4th surgery of the day! I'll see ya, buddy."

I smile and hold my hand up to wave, but he's already half way across the room. I gotta be faster with my goodbyes, everyone seems to be missing them. Well, here I am...alone again. Maybe I shouldn't have bothered with a lunch break today. All it's done so far is slow me down and cause me to lose all my momentum I had built up this morning. I guess I just didn't want to disobey Dr. Cox after he told me to go on break. He most likely just wanted an excuse to get rid of me. Although, normally if he wanted to get rid of me that much he would just tell me he couldn't stand the sight of me and send me home. That always leaves me with that happy, tingly feeling all over. He really is a sweet guy.

I take a bite out of my grilled chicken sandwich. I grimace at it while I swallow. It's cold already. Cold grilled chicken sandwiches are disgusting. I wash it down with a gulp of water and try not to gag. My eyes water from the effort. I wonder if it looks different to other people when your eyes water from tears of sadness or from some non-emotional reason. Maybe I'll ask the next person who comes over about it if my eyes are still watery. I look around the cafeteria. No one seems to be close enough to walk by, and my eyes are already starting to dry. Damn.

I notice that Elliot and Carla are sitting at a table in the middle of the room. I guess they didn't see me over here. I wonder how long they've been there. Their plates look empty...I guess they've been here for a while then. I'm surprised they didn't notice Turk when he came over and sat down with me for all of the 5 minutes he was here. Maybe they just wanted some girl time. Dr. Cox walks right past me and circles around the whole cafeteria, only to go sit with Elliot and Carla. They're probably just talking about the audit. Dr. Cox says something and the three of them burst out laughing. Audits can be funny, I guess. That's cool. I could totally use the alone time, anyway.

I sigh and pull my knees back up and go back to staring out the window. Ok. So I lied. I really, really don't need the alone time. All I get lately is alone time. I could just go over there and join them. I could tell them about what happened to me last week.

I can hear another round of laughter. I sigh again and close my eyes. Never mind. They're having fun. I wouldn't want to waltz over there and ruin their happy time with my sob story. Besides, there can't be that much time left of my break. Do I really want to get into the whole thing now when I might not even have enough time to finish the story? Naaa. The timing just isn't right. Maybe after work.

I feel my shoulders relax. Then, again…I'm starting to get a little droopy. I might not have the energy for a complete re-telling after a 12 hour shift. We'll see.

"Wake-up, Darcy. Nap time is over. Time to get back out there."

Once again, my eyes fly open, I don't scream like a Darcy this time. Whoo hoo! I open my mouth to say something witty like "Ok" or "I can't wait to get back into the game with you by my side, sir." but he's already gone. I look down and try not to let my shoulders noticeably slump. As I put my feet back on the floor and slide out of the booth I try to think positive thoughts. There aren't too many to latch onto right now. I finally settle on the one that tells me that the upside of this specific moment is that I'll be getting back to work and thus will be able to lose myself in the distracting business of helping patients. Alone time is over. That's a positive.

* * *

"Hey, Turk can I talk to you about something?"

Turk and I are in the locker room, getting ready to go home for the night. I'm tired, but still hyped up from my shift so I figure I may as well see if I get this conversation over with before I start to crash. Turk yawns and stretches.

"Yeah, sure buddy. Could you make it quick though? I'm totally beat, but promised Carla I would move the bureau into your old room for the baby tonight. I kind of want to just get home and get that over with."

I feel deflated. This isn't exactly what I had in mind for perfect timing. This isn't the kind of conversation I want to rush through exactly. Well, maybe it kind of is. Turk yawns again and sits down heavily on the bench. He does look beat. I think back to our conversation at lunch, which I guess wasn't much of a conversation since he basically did all the talking. He had a really crazy day. I can't very well lay this on him and then expect him to just say a few comforting words and then toddle off to his apartment to move a bureau and settle down for a good night's sleep.

"What is it?"

I pause for a second, but I've already made my decision.

"It's nothing. Go home. I'll tell you later."

Turk relaxes with apparent relief. Oh good. My best friend is relieved to be off the hook as far as talking to me goes. Would it really have been that much of a chore to listen to me for a few minutes? I guess I am known for talking too much and taking too long to tell stories. I suppose I can't blame him. I wish I didn't have to listen to myself sometimes, too.

I'm about to say "goodnight", but yet again I seem to have missed the boat while talking to myself, and instead I look up to the door closing behind Turk. And I'm alone again. It's kind of dim in here, and far too quiet. It kind of makes me want to lie down on this bench and just sleep here. Actually, it wouldn't be much different than the apartment since I'll only be sleeping on the floor there. The apartment. Damn it. I was going to go buy a lamp tonight. That means going out in public. I really don't feel like it. I can spend another night with bad lighting. I'll just get the lamp tomorrow. Now all I have to do is peel myself off this seat and actually walk out of here. I feel like I weigh a million pounds.

I'm still sitting here contemplating what I would look like if I really did weigh a million pounds when the door swings open again. I can hear footsteps, but I'm too tired to look up at whoever it is. Oh who am I kidding. I can't really just ignore someone. I'd feel guilty about it all night. Lifting your eyes up and saying "hi" doesn't take _that _much energy. I was complaining about Turk not having enough energy to listen to me earlier. God, I am such a hypocrite. I roll my eyes at myself and sigh. Great. Now I feel guilty for being upset at Turk earlier, disappointed in myself for being a hypocrite, completely drained of all energy, lonely, and a little depressed at the thought of going home to a dark apartment - even though I could fix the dark part by just sucking it up and picking up a stupid $20 lamp on the way home.

I hear the door open again. I finally look up in time to see Dr. Cox's back as he walks out of the room. Oh terrific. I totally ignored Dr. Cox. I am such an ass. I sigh again and force myself to stand up and walk out behind him. Maybe I can catch him in the parking lot or something and apologize.

I _am_ able to catch up to him in the parking lot. Just as he's about to get into his car, I call out as I jog over, "Dr. Cox!"

He growls and turns around to give me the death glare.

"And here I thought I was going to do the impossible after five years of working with you. I thought I was finally going to be able to escape this God forsaken hell-hole without having to have your whiny voice stuck in my head all night because it was the last thing I heard before getting in my car and drowning myself in scotch so I could handle going home to the devil with a blue dress, blue dress, devil with a blue dress on. So now that you've single handedly squashed my hopes and dreams, why don't you just spill it and tell me, for the love of God, what do you want, Newbie?"

I stare and blink, and I can't help but feel completely crushed. I don't know why I let him do this to me every time. I don't why I let his little speeches get to me like this, but here I am - silenced by the overwhelming feeling of despair. I was going to apologize to him for ignoring him in the locker room. Silly me. I guess I was just doing him a favor. Maybe he would have given me a thank you card in the morning. But instead I have to ruin my chances of being on the receiving end of the once a year show of gratitude from Dr. Cox by simply saying his name. How stupid am I? He's looking at me with a mixture of expectancy and annoyance. I blink and look down at the pavement and my borrowed shoes.

"Nothing," I whisper. "Have a good night."

Hey - look on the bright side - I was finally able to get in a goodbye before the person walked off. That's an accomplishment isn't it? He doesn't reply. I'm pretty sure he grunts and then all I hear is his door slam and his car rev up. At least I'm with it enough to step out of the way so I don't get run over as he backs up and peels out.

I slowly walk over to my scooter but remember right before I step into the parking space that I still haven't taken care of the glue that's spread all over the spot from this morning. I am so not in the mood to deal with this. I take a stick and test out the stickiness. I'm quite thankful I didn't walk into the glue because the stick breaks when I try to pull it back up.

I guess I'll be buying a few hundred bottles of ethyl acetate tonight. I don't think I'll have enough money for a lamp after this. Oh well. I guess it's going to be a late night for me. Maybe I can just crash in the on call room tonight instead of going home. Of course, that will have to wait until after I take a really long shower to wash off the nail polish remover smell that's going to be all over me when I'm done. I wonder if I can sneak my shoes into one of the loads of laundry tonight so I'm not getting high all day from the fumes.

Damn, it. How far away is the closest store I wonder? These shoes I borrowed from Doug are starting to give me blisters. I sigh and start off down the road. My feet really are killing me. What a fabulous cap on a fabulous day. I guess there's no place to go but up from here, right? I hope tomorrow is better than today.


	5. Chapter 4: My Failed Attempts

Author's Note: Ok, so I finally got this stinkin' thing posted! I've been really busy, and really tired. Plus my computer at home and at work hates me! I am re-writing my next chapter for Carefree No Longer. I just can't seem to get it right! I haven't abandoned it, though - I promise. One of these days I'll just throw my hands up in the air and submit the damn thing and forget about it. In the meantime, I hope this is ok.

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Nothing owns me. **

**_JD's Dreams in italics_ **

**JD's POV**

**

* * *

**_"You have to let me help him!"_

_The man in front of me looks frazzled and buries his fingers in his hair, causing his gun to hang loosely from his index finger. How can he have that thing so close to his head like that and no be freaking out?_

_"NO!" He yells at me for the 10th time._

_"He can't breathe! I'm a doctor - you need to let me help him!"_

_"What's wrong with him?" He's still yelling. I bet his throat feels really good right about now._

_"I'd need to examine him to find out for sure. It could be several things. He's going to need an ambulance."_

_"No - no, absolutely not. No one is leaving this store!"_

_He points the gun at me again. Oh God, you'd think I would have gotten used to that by now._

_"He could die."_

_He jumps up and down for a second, and lets out a heart stopping roar. The lady to my left whimpers and falls to her knees. I close my eyes for a moment. I can feel my heart beating in chest. My hands feel twitchy and I have to physically force myself to a) not scream along with him and b) not risk my life to rush over to Tim who is clutching his chest and struggling to breathe about 20 feet away from me._

_I clench my jaw and open my eyes once the screaming stops and wish instantly that I had kept them closed. A small, strangled cry escapes my throat. The man with the gun's head is mere inches from my own, his eyes level with mine. I flinch and hiss when I feel something cold and hard press up against my temple. My legs are shaking and I can feel the blood drain from my face. Please God, don't let him pull the trigger._

_"Don't think I don't know what you're up to. You and him both." He nods to Tim on the floor._

_"W-w-hat?"_

_"Shut up! Don't act stupid!"_

_A spray of saliva hits my face as he yells so loud my ears start ringing. I have a feeling that the words I choose to say right now are crucial, but I can't get my mouth to work properly. _

_"I'm sorry. We're not up to anything! He's not faking _that_. Just look at him."_

_I turn my head slightly to try to get a look at Tim. The gun presses to my temple harder while his hand roughly shoves my head to face forward again._

_"You're going to signal him somehow! Don't move. Don't do anything."_

_Oh God, oh God, oh God._

_"No, I-"_

_"He's not moving!" The Subway girl screams._

_On instinct I jump forward to rush over to help Tim, forgetting completely about the gun that was just pressed to my head. I fall to my knees and slide across the floor to Tim's side. This doesn't look good. No no no no no no!_

_BANG!_

* * *

My eyes fly open and I gasp. Oh God, what just happened? It's dark. Have I been shot? Why can't I see? I hear someone clear their throat and notice there is a band of light stretching across the floor. I look over without turning my head. My eyes move up the band of light and I see a figure standing in the doorway. What the hell? Who is that? 

"Dr. Dorian, I was asked to wake you. You're shift starts in a half an hour."

What? Oh...I'm at the hospital. I was dreaming. Or remembering. Same thing.

"Thank you."

The door closes, leaving me in the dark. I lay there for a few minutes. I listen to my heart beat slow back down before finally sitting up and swinging my legs over the side of the bed. I'm trembling a little. Not bad though. It's probably not very visible...not that anyone's in here to see me anyway. It must be 5:30. I've gotten about 3 hours of sleep. Excellent.

After going to the bathroom to splash some water on my face and attempt make myself somewhat presentable, I decide I should see about getting some breakfast for once. My stomach growls loudly as I wander around the empty cafeteria, trying to figure out what to eat. I'm hungry, which isn't a surprise considering I've only had a couple bites of food over the past couple of days. I finally decide on a bowl of Golden Grahams and I take a seat over by the window. It's hazy out, which makes it look darker then it probably would normally be at this time. It makes me feel kind of mellow just looking at the unfocused world outside.

Slowly I begin to realize that I'm really enjoying my Golden Grahams and it's actually cheering me up. I'm not quite in the mood to whoop and holler and do a dance of joy, but...I could smile. I even sing, "you're not just good, you're golden" quietly to myself. The food is doing me some good. It's giving me some much needed energy. I'll just grab a cup of coffee on my way out and I think I'll be ready to face the day. Today might be a decent day after all.

I see Dr. Cox breeze in, grab some coffee, and leave. Dr. Cox. He's been really avoidant lately. Neither one of our shifts have technically started yet, maybe if I hurry I can catch him before he really gets going. After my dream this morning, I think I've stalled long enough as far as talking to someone about "the incident". I know he's not a big talker and he will most likely try to blow me off, but that doesn't normally stop me from trailing after him and bugging him until he has no choice but to listen. It's probably not intentional, but he almost always ends up saying something in his rant that is sure to follow, that helps me in some way.

I swallow the last couple of bites, get my coffee, and make my way to the nurse's station. Sure enough, there he is at the desk, looking grumpy as usual. He's got a chart in his hand, flipping through it. The nurse that woke me up is behind the desk. What is her name again? Jamie...Jane..? Oh well.

"Good morning, Dr. Cox."

I'm all smiley and cheery, but he's not responding. I doubt it's because he didn't hear me. He seems to have JD radar. He knows when I'm in a 100 yard radius. I feel like I need to tread lightly, but I'm getting really tired of carrying this crap around with me in my head. I just need to get it out and finding people to talk to hasn't been easy so far. I clear my throat and grab a chart and pretend to look through it. I glance up at the nurse behind the desk. She catches my eye and smiles.

"Good morning. Thanks for getting me up earlier."

"No problem. What were you dreaming about, anyway?"

Wow. Ok, um...I wasn't expecting her to come out with that. I feel my face burning, and I know I'm blushing from embarrassment right now. What was I doing I wonder?

"Oh, uh...I don't remember. Why, was I talking in my sleep or something?"

Oh shit, JD you idiot. Don't ask her these things in public! Actually...this could be a good way to naturally move into a conversation about it with Dr. Cox.

She shakes her head and shrugs, "No, not really. You just seemed a little…distressed."

I laugh a nervous laugh and shrug.

"Oh, who knows. Probably just dreaming about clowns and pennies or something."

"Yeah."

Dr. Cox glances up at the nurse, and then at me. He opens his mouth like he's about to say something and then I see his eyes shift to something behind me. I glance over my shoulder and see Dr. Kelso standing in the hallway giving Dr. Cox a meaningful look. Dr. Cox narrows his eyes, snaps his mouth shut and starts off down the hallway. That was weird. Oh crap - Dr. Cox is walking away. My talking opportunity is slipping away!

I jog off after him and finally catch him 1/2 way down the hall.

"Hey, Dr. Cox!"

He just keeps walking.

"Dr. Cox, can I talk to you? It's kind of important."

Still nothing. And man, this guy walks fast. Stupid long legs.

"I mean, it doesn't have to be right this minute, but, um...sometime today if you get a chance? Lunch maybe?"

He takes a sharp corner into the stairwell and grabs my arm to yank me in roughly. I yelp like a girl. Damn, I think he gave me whip lash.

"Newbie, listen to me and listen good."

Oh, here we go. It's ok. Just let him rant and then he'll listen to you.

"We are not friends. We have never been friends. We will never be friends..."

Ok, I've heard this before. I'm trying to just zone him out and let it all just roll off me. I know he doesn't really mean it, not completely anyway. I'm not sure if he's done or not, but he pauses so I just decide to jump in.

"See, something happened last week and I really need to-"

"OK! What did I just say? There will be no talking. Not now. Not ever."

This is really getting frustrating. He's such a drama queen sometimes.

"What is your problem? I'm just asking you to listen to me for like...5 minutes at some point when you're free - at your convenience. I'm not asking you to be my best buddy or to teach me how to ride a bike. 5 minutes. I just need someone to listen to me for 5 freaking minutes! This doesn't have to be some huge commitment or a big deal."

Ok, it's kind of a big deal to me...but it doesn't have to be for anyone else. He doesn't even have to say anything! Although, a hug after would be nice.

Both our pagers go off and this little stand off is over. As we both race off down the hallway it hits me that the mood has officially changed from mellow yet hopeful to frustrated and hopeless in the first 5 minutes of my day. Terrific. Did he suddenly decide while I was gone that he really couldn't stand my guts and this whole time and I've just fooled myself into thinking that I was sort of growing on him?

We get to the patient's room and I freeze briefly in the doorway before running in. People are yelling and zipping around the room. I catch from one of the nurses that this guy has just come in from the ER with a gunshot wound to the neck. There is blood everywhere and the guy is moaning and mostly unconscious. Dr. Cox has gotten straight to work. It always takes me a couple extra seconds to take it all in. I hope that one day I can just jump right in the way he does.

The patient wakes up from his semi-conscious state and bolts up in his bed with a roar, ripping out his IVs in the process. His arms are flailing and it looks like he's battling some unseen presence the way he's moving. The nurses move out of the way and everyone stands back for a second until Dr. Cox moves back in to hold him down.

"Newbie! Get over here and help me!"

I finally snap out of it and grab his arm on the other side of the bed. For a moment it looks like he's calming down. I take a look at him. He's huge! His arms are like the size of my thigh. It's nuts! He's like the hulk. Todd would be so jealous.

The nurse is moving in to inject him with the sedative when he bursts into action again. Dr. Cox is really struggling with his side and I'm about to marvel that I'm able to hold him down at all, when I practically get lifted off the floor as he starts flailing again. I try to get a better grip and angle to hold him down, but as I'm shifting my weight he wrenches his arm free and flings it through the air. It hits me on the side of my head and I hear myself yell out while I stumble backwards into the cart and tray behind me. I couldn't even tell I was falling, everything was happening so fast, until I hit the floor. The noises around me are deafening. The cart must have tipped over because there is a loud clatter far too close to my head, followed by glass breaking and the sound of a dozen metal instruments bouncing off the floor.

Behind my closed eyes I see the Travel Plaza again...

_People are yelling and screaming all around me and the tall shelf to my right slams into floor sending batteries, cameras, and travel mugs crashing down. I think I was one of the people yelling as it happened._

I try to scoot back from my spot on the floor and I cover my ears from the noise. I'm sweating and my heart is beating wildly in my chest. I gulp in some air and hold my breath, waiting for what's going to happen next.

"Newbie for God's sake!"

What? Dr. Cox is here? I open my eyes and slowly lift my head from my knees.

I can't see much really, just legs and coats. Oh God. I zoned out. I'm supposed to be helping with this patient.

"Never mind - Elliot give us a hand!"

I feel completely muddled as I slowly look around trying to remember what was just happening and why I ended up on the floor. I'm shaking and I feel like I just woke up from a horrible nightmare. Maybe it was only a matter of seconds. Maybe it was several minutes...I don't know. My mind recalls the scene that took place and I remember why I'm down here. The room clears out as the patient gets rushed out. Where are they all going? But not everyone leaves. Dr. Cox stays behind. He takes off his gloves and throws them away. He sighs, runs a hand through his hair, and then turns around to face me.

I feel like a scared little boy waiting for his spanking. I kind of think maybe I should scoot back into the corner that's only a few feet away, but I'm pretty sure I would only look crazier than I already do. I'm quite positive I have just done something stupid and I'm not sure how to react to that. So I just look up at him with my eyes wide, my insides trembling, waiting to see what he'll say about what just happened.

"You ok?"

His tone is really clipped, like he's pissed but is afraid to yell at me yet, just in case I was injured in some way. I'm pretty sure I'm not injured - knocked around a little, but no concussion or anything. Just shaken up.

I nod and uncurl myself so I can stand. He gives me his hand and helps me up. I feel really uncomfortable. I hate that he just saw me freak out. I feel like a young, inexperienced first year intern again.

"Is he off to surgery?"

I decide to just stick to conversation directly related to the patient and not me and my idiocy.

"Yep."

Ooook. Not one for details, I guess. Maybe I should...apologize?

"Dr. Cox, I'm sorry I wasn't much-"

"It's ok."

I guess he doesn't really want to hear my apology. He starts walking out, but then stops and faces me.

"I don't know what the hell happened to you back there, but this is not the time to spaz out. If you want to cower in a corner and pee your pants when some big guy waves his 'guns' in your face that's fine - but not here. That doesn't fly here. Not with me."

Ok, so...apology not accepted. Plus he was using an interesting choice of words. Guns waving in my face? I know he was talking about the guys arms but I can't help but...man. That's bizarre.

"This is a hospital. You're going to see some scary shit. If you can't pull yourself together and keep your head on straight when things get a little crazy than maybe you shouldn't be here. That man needed you, Newbie. Aw, heck - _I _needed you. I'm sorry you got a little jostled, but when that happens, you get back up and you keep going. He didn't have the luxury of the time it took you to brush off the dirt. I had to get Barbie in here! Barbie!"

I look down at my feet. He's right. I didn't do my job. I jeopardized a man's life.

"I-is he going to be ok?"

I sound like a damned mouse.

"I don't know. We'll see."

I hear him sigh again. And then I felt his hand on my shoulder. I swallow, and don't look up.

"You froze. It happens to everyone at some point. It's unfortunate that you had to go and have your very own frozen moment today of all days. We are under a very powerful microscope right now, Newbie. If you can promise me you'll pull it together, I will promise you that I will do whatever I can to keep this from getting to big Bob. Trust me on this one - you do not want to know what would happen to you if he even suspects that one of his precious minions isn't performing at 100 percent. So...do we have a deal?"

I swallow again and nod, keeping my eyes trained on my shoes.

"Good."

His hand slid off my shoulder and he was out the door, leaving only the breeze from the door behind. I remained where I was, letting it all sink in. I can't believe that just happened. I run a hand through my hair and hold it out in front of me. It's still shaking. I take a deep breath and sit down on a nearby chair. I still just can't get over it. How in the hell? I just flipped out. In front of everyone. I was supposed to be a doctor. I was supposed to be helping that patient. Instead I acted like I had a war flashback. This isn't good. Not good. Not good. Not good.

I stay there for 5 minutes or so to collect myself. At this point I'm less shaken by my little flashback than I am by what the consequences of my reaction to it could have been. Luckily Elliot was nearby to jump in. I can't afford to be struggling this much. I've got to do something about this. The problem is I'm convinced that I'll start getting better if I just let someone know. I don't know. I guess not everything can be solved with simply sharing knowledge, or even having a friend or two to support you, but surely it'll be a help, right?

What a way to start the day. My very first patient and I completely loose my cool. I stand up and duck into the closest bathroom to splash some water on my face again and just...breathe. I brace myself for having to walk back out into the hallway and possibly face anyone who was in that patient's room, and for whatever else will be thrown at me when I get back to work. Then I open the door, put on "mega professional doctor" face, and dive in.

* * *

It's time for lunch once again. Dr. Cox hasn't spoken another word to me today unless it was in front of a patient, and then it was nothing but business. It was starting to get a little unnerving the way he keeps completely ignoring my very existence unless we're talking about a patient. This started on Monday when I got back, so...I can't blame the incident this morning. As I was placing my last patient's chart on the desk at the nurse's station Carla came around the corner. 

"Hey, Carla - can I ask you something?"

"Sure Bambi, what's up?"

We start walking down the hallway to the cafeteria.

"Has Dr. Cox said anything to you about...about why he isn't talking to me?"

Carla looks at me sympathetically.

"Don't worry about it, Bambi. It's nothing personal. Kelso has been the social conversation Nazi lately. He has been watching everyone like a hawk because of this audit thing. He doesn't want anyone milling around socializing in the hallways during our shifts and most of us have gotten our asses chewed more than once since last Monday."

"Oh, wow. That sucks. So this audit thing is a pretty big deal I guess."

"I guess so. They do this only once every ten years. The results will play a big role in determining what our budget is going to look like. If the auditors decide the hospital isn't running efficiently enough or that the staff is over paid or there are too many of us...well, you get the picture. Dr. Cox is pretty stressed about it even though he would never admit it. Since they'll be looking at individual staff performance, including how each of us relate to our co-workers and patients, Kelso has come down especially hard on Perry. At least until this is over Kelso won't tolerate any temper tantrums from Perry. So, to avoid that, he's pretty much avoiding everyone."

"Ohhh."

I feel a little better now. It kind of makes sense. I guess he doesn't hate my guts after all.

"So, how much longer do we all have to tip toe around?"

"I think next week is when the guys doing the audit will actually be in here looking around. After that we wait until the report comes out and make whatever changes we have to make. They might send some people back to see if we've corrected what we needed to. That sort of thing."

"Ah. So about a week and a half more for now. Ok. That's do-able."

Carla shrugged. She seemed to be dealing with this pretty well. No wonder people have been kind of distant. We walk into the cafeteria and are instantly bombarded by Turk who started cuddling with Carla before they even sat down. I just sort of shrugged to no one in particular and grabbed some food. I wasn't really paying much attention to what I was taking. Nothing seemed all that appetizing anyway. And now the five extra hours of sleep I _didn't_ get were starting to make me feel droopy. Damn lunch time. You slow down just enough to crash hard. I sigh and join Turk and Carla. Actually, just Carla. She's eating Turk's food while Turk is loading up another plate for his baby and...baby.

I take a look at my food. Crusty looking lasagna and coleslaw. What the hell was I thinking? I glance up at Carla who is happily eating and decide I may as well dig in, too. I take a few bites of the lasagna. It tastes like it was made three days ago and had been sitting out under the heat lamps since this morning. Maybe I should just take my mind off of it so it's not the only thing I'm focusing on. Actually, since I'm sitting with Carla, maybe I can talk to her.

"Carla, can I talk to you about something?"

She finishes her bite before replying. "Sure, Bambi. What's on your mind?"

Suddenly this feels really awkward, so I push around my coleslaw while I try to get the right words out.

"Well, uh. There's this..._thing_ that happened the other week...and...I guess I'm having a really hard time dealing with it."

"When? Last week?"

"Yeah, on my vacation. Actually it was the first day of my vacation."

Just as I was about to begin my story, Turk comes back to the table with Carla's food. She attacks it greedily and seems to have forgotten that we were having a conversation. I take a bite of coleslaw and wait for a few seconds to see if she's going to bring it back up. She doesn't. I sigh and am about to take another bite when it suddenly occurs to me that I haven't even said hi to Turk!

"Hey T-dog."

"Hey, JD. You look tired, man."

"I feel tired. The janitor glued Shasha and my sneakers to the pavement yesterday morning so I was getting them unstuck until about 2:00 this morning. I only got about 3 hours of sleep."

"Aw, man. What time do you get off?"

"Um...6:00."

Turk let out a low whistle in response and started to eat the rest of his food. I watched them for a little bit. They were both lost in their food. After a while, they started talking about the baby and the apartment and were lost in each other instead. Just sitting here, watching my best friend and his wife talking about this huge life changing thing made me feel completely drained. Just being in the presence of the mere suggestion of fatherhood made me exhausted. My shoulders drooped, and the muscles in my hand relaxed causing my fork to clatter noisily onto the table. Turk and Carla both turned to look at me at the same time as though I had just slapped them.

"S-sorry. Clumsy..." I laugh a nervous laugh and let it fade out as they turn back to each other and continue their conversation. I look around to see who else was around, and to give myself something else to do. I see Elliot sitting alone.

"Excuse me guys, I'm going to go say hello to Elliot."

"Bye Bambi."

"See ya, buddy."

I smile and pick up my tray and leave. Tossing my tray out on my way, I slip into the chair in front of Elliot.

"Hey, gorgeous." I smile at her. Ok, this is a new conversation. No need to carry the other failed one with you.

Elliot smiles brightly at my greeting and blinks a few times before answering. Wow. She must have had to let that one sink in for a little while.

"Hey, JD."

"So, how have you been? I haven't really gotten a chance to talk to you very much since I got back from my vacation."

She rolls her eyes and waves her hand in the air, "Oh, I know! It's been such a mad house. I feel like I haven't even come up for air in like...10 days. I bet you're wishing you stayed away another week, huh?"

Ha. Yeah right.

I laugh, "Uh...no, not even remotely."

"You're insane. Actually, I've noticed that Kelso has barely said a word to you. You're lucky. He's been hounding everyone else since you left. Especially Dr. Cox. It's been really bad."

She leans in like she has been keeping the biggest secret ever. I lean in too.

"Can I confess something to you?"

"Yeah, of course. It'll go in the vault." I smile conspiratorially.

"JD, I'm sorry. I have to confess I've been kind of angry with you."

Oh.

"Oh."

She takes my hands.

"I know, it's really stupid. I just got mad that you left for a whole week just when we needed you the most. I know you didn't mean to, and you didn't even know about the audit thingy, and you had this family thing to go to...but...I've been sort of avoiding you because I was still mad at you for not being here. I guess I wanted you to be as miserable as I've been. I'm so sorry."

A part of me wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of her "true confession". If she wanted me as miserable as she was, maybe I should be mad at her instead. Maybe she wished this upon me. But, I knew that wasn't true, so I wasn't mad at her. The other part of me that wasn't busy laughing bitterly, felt a bit disheartened. I found myself feeling guilty about leaving her alone to deal with all this crap. I also felt really awful knowing that someone had been angry with me for that long without me knowing. I know everyone always tells me I worry about what people think of me too much, and that all I care about it getting people to like me. Maybe that's part of why this feels so bad. I think mostly I just feel rotten because I believe I deserved to be on the receiving end of that. Stupid I know. But, that's me.

I have no idea how to respond to her confession. I know it's not as big a deal as my stupid brain is making it out to be. The best thing to do is just tell her it's no big deal and that's it's all good.

"That's ok, Elliot." I laugh while I'm saying it. I give her hands a good squeeze and smile at her. She smiles back and sits back in her seat, looking relieved.

"Feel better?"

"Yeah. Thanks, JD."

I nod. We're silent for a moment. I of course, feel the need to fill that silence.

"Elliot, do you want to hear the craziest story?"

She really looks interested. By the smile on her face, though I know she's expecting a very different type of story than what I'm about to tell her.

"So, last Monday I was heading out to see Dan and...well the whole family, and I stopped to get gas-"

Elliot's cell phone rang. She held up her finger, telling me to wait, and answered it.

"Hello? Hey baby. How are you feeling? I miss you." She pulled the phone away and mouth "I'm sorry" and got up and left to talk more privately.

I just sat there with a really dumb look on my face. I couldn't believe it. Maybe this just wasn't meant to be? Maybe I'm just doomed to deal with this on my own. No. NO! That can't be right. No way. I'm giving this one more try. This is so stupid. I feel like this thing is just a ticking time bomb and the only way to disable it is to tell someone., and the clock is rapidly running down to zero.

Oh great, now I'm in panic mode. Not helpful. I get up from my seat and start walking out of the cafeteria, looking around for someone to talk to. I head to the lounge. Dr. Cox is stretched out on the couch looking very relaxed and _very_ into his soap opera. Against my better judgment I sit down on the tiny square of the couch that he isn't occupying and clear my throat. He shoots me a quick glare and then focuses on the TV screen again.

"Dr. Cox, I'm sorry, I know you're..um..busy."

"Yep. Shove off."

Hang in there.

"Could we just..I could really use someone to talk to right now. Technically we're both on break so Kelso can't string us up or anything."

"Yes. _I_ am on my break. _My _break. I like my break. I like to do my own thing on my break. I like to relax on this couch, watch my stories, and not be bothered by anyone. Kindly get out of my sight so I can finish _my _break."

Stay the course, JD. Remember - ticking time bomb. TICKING TIME BOMB!

"I know. I'm sorry. This is really important. I'll try to make it quick, but everyone else is busy and I am having a really hard time here, and I thought telling someone would help."

"No, Princess, _everyone _is busy. Not 'everyone _else_'. This," Dr. Cox gestures to himself, "This is me being busy. Now go."

"Dr. Cox, please I-"

"GO!"

On instinct I stand up and turn around to leave. But then I turn back around and sit on the coffee table in front of him instead. Why wasn't I persistent like this with Turk and Carla? I bet they would have had a better reaction than this. Glutton for punishment, I guess.

"Yes, I can see just how busy you are. It's mind boggling, really. Look - it's kind of about what happened this morning. I wa-"

"Nothing happened this morning, Michelle. And I'm not listening."

He got up and started walking away. No! This has got to work!

"No - wait! Dr. Cox, I don't really want to talk about that exactly,"

I'm following after him like the puppy I am.

"This would explain that...um...incident. If you would just stop and listen to me for a few minutes!"

"I caann't heeearrr yooouuu! Lalalalalalala..."

He's plugging his ears as he lopes away down the hallway, la-la-ing. I'm so glad he's matured past 5 years old. I'd feel even more stupid than I already do if I went jogging after him...again. I can't believe what I'm about to do, but I am getting really desperate here.

I find the janitor scrubbing a spot on the wall.

"Hey, how's it goin'?" That's it, JD, start off nice and slow.

He pauses and quirks an eyebrow at me.

"How does it look like it's going?"

I look at the stain on the wall that doesn't seem to want to come off and I wonder how long he has been working on it.

"That's a stubborn looking stain."

He stops and gives me _that_ look. It's the one he always gets when he's about to accuse me of something I didn't do.

"You seem to know a lot about this stain."

Oh crap.

"No, I-I was ju-"

"Do have anything to tell me? Do you want to tell me how this stain got here?"

"I don't know how it got there, I was just trying to answer your question."

"Oh." He actually looks like he believes me for once. Ok, here I go.

"Um, actually I was wondering if you had a free couple of minutes...there's something that's really bothering me and I thought maybe you could help."

That wasn't so bad.

"What are you saying? That because I'm a janitor I have all this free time to stand around and chat? That my job is so mundane and menial that surely I wouldn't have anything better to be doing? Is that it?"

What? Damn it!

"No, of course not! I-"

"Am I wearing a sign that says 'Free counseling service. I have all the time in the world because I'm a janitor'? Hm?"

I sigh and let my head fall back. It rolls to the side and I get a closer look at the stain on the wall. Huh.

"It looks like coffee."

"What?"

The janitor leans in to inspect the wall and I know in an instant that I made a huge mistake.

"Coffee, huh? And you don't know how it got there, eh? But you somehow know it's coffee."

"No! I just got a second look at it, that's all. Look, I just wanted to talk!"

"Oh, so because you're a doctor you just needed a second look at it and you knew instantly what it was. But I'm just a stupid janitor so even though I've been standing here, staring at it, smelling it, scrubbing it - I needed you to come and tell me about this stain on the wall. Is that what you are getting at?"

I know where this is going. I've been here often enough to know that this is over and I've lost. There's nothing I can do. So I shake my head at the floor and wait for him to finish.

"You planned this out so you could come waltzing over here with your small talk and fake problems and then snap your fingers and make your doctor diagnosis on my stain. You wanted to put me in my place. Mm hm. We'll see about that, Scooter."

And with that he dumped his dirty, lukewarm, barely soapy water over my head, rang his rag out over my head, threw it at my feet, and left.

"That went well."

* * *

**Fast forward to approximately 7:00 in the evening.**

You would think that after my fun little run in with Dr. Cox followed closely by another episode of "The Amazing Adventures of JD and the Janitor" that I would have called it a night. But no. Of course not. Not me. I don't quit that easily. So, here I am at the bar with Elliot, Turk, and Carla - who I might add is really grumpy tonight because of the whole being pregnant and can't drink thing. Keith would have been here, but as it turns out he has the flu. We've been here for about 30 minutes. It's pretty quiet tonight, which I'm grateful for since I am planning on giving this whole conversation thing another try and I don't think it would work if I had to yell over the loud din of drunken college kids. I've had 2 appletinis already, so I'm feeling pretty loose...confident.

There's a lull in the conversation and I leap right in. I think my problem has been too much hesitation, so, I'm just going to get right to it.

"Hey guys, I want to tell you about my crappy vacation."

"Bambi, please. We're out, we're supposed to be having fun. The last thing I want to do hear about is your stupid vacation with your family - which will remind me of how the rest of us were slaving away at the hospital doing our work (plus yours), getting yelled at by Kelso, and feeling like we could actually get fired this time if we didn't do everything absolutely perfectly!"

She talked faster and louder as her little speech went on until she was yelling at me. That woman can be really scary.

Turk put his hand on my shoulder. Oh good. I can always count on my Chocolate Bear to come through for me.

"Buddy, she kind of has a point."

What?

"I hate to say it, but it can get really annoying. I mean, it's the same story every time. You go home and then complain about the new boyfriend your mom has and how she acts like your high school friend Emily who was always falling for the wrong guys and would ask you your opinion of them and then ignore it. Your brother would spend the whole week drinking and promising to spend time with you, but would go out to drink with his buddies instead. Your Uncle Bert would take you out to eat and embarrass you by telling everyone how he taught you the naked chicken dance and then after a few beers he would start farting really loudly and pretend that you were doing it. Aunty B would bring over 5 pies, all apple, and insist that you take them with you when you leave because you're a growing boy, and pinch your cheek until it bruised. Sorry, you know you're my man - but I gotta side with my woman on this one."

Carla smiles and pulls him in for a kiss. I glance over at Elliot. She's staring really intently at the table.

"A-actually, it wasn't anything like that. I didn't even-"

"Oh my God, JD just SHUT-UP!"

My mouth hangs open and we all turn to stare wide-eyed at Elliot who has just stood up and is currently looking at me like I murdered her dog and made her brother watch.

"Nobody cares, ok! No one wants to hear about it. If I hear you say the word 'vacation' one more time I swear to God, JD...I'm really gonna lose it."

This isn't losing it?

Everyone's really quiet for what feels like 20 minutes. It was probably only 20 seconds. Finally Elliot clears her throat and sits back down. She smoothes her hair down and takes a gulp of her drink. She laughs nervously after she swallows.

"Sorry."

She says this while waving her hand in a gesture that shows she's not really apologizing to me. She's just making a general apology for flipping out.

"I guess I'm still mad!"

She laughs some more, which causes everyone else to laugh. I feel like I've missed some joke. I look around, in case there are hidden cameras or something and this was all staged. But, of course...that's not the case. And then it happens. I give up. Just like that. I give up...and I know. I know I'm not going to try to bring it up anymore. I know that I'm on my own with this one.

I finish my appletini with a swift guzzle and stare hard at the table - just for a second - which is long enough for it to sink in. I am alone. I find myself laughing along with them. What the hell. I want to cry and scream. I want to make them all listen so I can tell them how wrong they are, but I don't. I'm deflated and exhausted and I have no desire to stick around here. I don't want to be surrounded by these people who are still laughing at Elliot's funny mean-girl moment. They're repeating her outburst like it's the hot movie line of the week. I hardly expect them to even notice when I leave.

"I think I'm going to go home. Have a good night guys."

I talk very softly and slowly, it's the only way I trust myself to speak right now. They do actually notice.

"Wait, JD. I don't think you should be driving. Hang out for a little bit, let it wear off."

"I live a few blocks away. I'll walk. G'night."

Somehow, I am able to smile like I'm fine with this and wave as I walk out the door. I actually live about a mile away, but I don't really mind. I'm just going to take my time and get used to this quiet aloneness. I have a feeling this is going to be a state I'm going to find myself in a lot more from now on. Welcome to your new life, JD.


	6. Chapter 5: My Guilty Conscience

**Disclaimer: I don't own Scrubs or anything in or about it. **

**_JD's dream in italics_ **

**JD's POV **

* * *

_BANG!_

_Oh God. I swear my heart stopped. I look down and realize I had thrown myself across Tim's body at the sound of the gunshot. Have I been shot? No...no not me. Everything is silent. I think everyone has frozen in place. What about Tim? Has he been shot? I quickly look him over. I don't see any blood. I don't think he's been shot. Finally I look up and scan the room. It looks like everyone else is doing the same thing - I see people staring down at their bodies' and then look up, trying to find out if anyone else had been shot._

_I'm about to sigh in relief and get to work on Tim when someone coughs and I catch movement out of the corner of my eye. I look up to see a silver-haired man, sliding down the wall. He looked pale and he was clutching his stomach. Oh no. Someone had been shot. _

_"Oh my God! You shot him!" Someone screamed. _

_I glanced up at the gunman. He looked completely shocked. I took a risk and left Tim's side and ran over to the man who was now slumped on the floor. As I suspected, the gunman didn't do anything. He was still staring at his gun, trembling all over._

_I turned my attention back to the silver haired man. I try to look him in the eye, but he's staring down at his hand that's gripping his stomach and quickly becoming covered in blood._

_"Hey, I'm going to remove your hand and look at your stomach, ok?"_

_I only got a gasp in response._

_"What's your name?"_

_"G-Gary. Gary Ibsen."_

_"Ok, Gary. I need you to pick something in this room and focus on it. It can be the top of my head if you want, or the pretty girl over there. Can you do that for me?"_

_He looks me in the eye this time. So his name is Gary Ibsen. I remember seeing him getting coffee when I first walked in. So I know his name and that he drinks coffee. As I watch his eyes search the room for something to focus on, I can't help but feel like it was incredibly wrong that there was this person bleeding out in front of me that I knew nothing about. I didn't have a chart in front of me. We didn't get to have that mini "get to know your patient" chat. I didn't have time to stop and ask him what his favorite color was, though. He was dying._

_I gently removed his hand from his stomach so I could get a better look at the wound. It was bleeding a lot, it was hard to see what damage the bullet had caused. My mind was racing - I had no idea what I was going to be able to do for this man. And Tim was unconscious on the floor 10 feet away. I was almost positive he had a heart attack. _

_"Does anyone know if there is a defibrillator here?"_

_I call out to no one in particular while I grabbed a package of car cleaning clothes that had fallen off the shelf that had been knocked over earlier and began opening it up._

_"Yeah, there's one behind the desk."_

_I search the room for a face to match the voice and I see the lady who had been working behind the counter. She looked to be about 35 I would guess. I glance at the gunman again who was now raking a hand through his hair and looking around the room with wild eyes. I sensed that at any moment he was going to start reacting to all of this. We had to act now._

_I catch her eye and nod, trying to tell her without voicing it to go and get the defibrillator. Thankfully she wastes no time and jumps into action. _

_"Great - now bring it over to Tim - uh...the man on the floor over there."_

_I lean Gary forward onto me and look to see if there is an exit wound. There isn't. Not good. The bullet is still in there! I wad up some of the cloths and place them over Gary's wound. Then I take off my sweatshirt and wrap it around his middle and tie it tightly. Ok, I'll have to deal with that in a minute. Right after I tend to Tim. I just hope it hasn't already been too long._

_"Ok, could you, uh...what's your name?"_

_"Linda."_

_"Thank you Linda. Do you think you could come over here and watch Gary while I try to help Tim? Just talk to him."_

_She nods, and we make the switch. I had almost forgotten about the gunman as I check Tim's pulse and breathing. No pulse. No breathing. SHIT!! I'm frantically trying to open the difibrilator and I'm about to use it when the gunman finally snaps out of it._

_"Wait - nobody move. You - you what are you doing?"_

_I look up, he's talking to me._

_"I think he had a heart attack. I'm trying to restart his heart."_

_"What is that thing?"_

_I sigh. I'm starting to get really frustrated. My adrenaline is pumping so hard right now and all fear for myself is forgotten._

_"It's called a defibrillator and it's his only hope! Please, just let me help him before it's too late!!!" _

_It may already be too late._

_I pause only for a second until I see that he has conceded before I continue in my work. To my extreme relief it's successful. He has a pulse, albeit a weak one, and he's now breathing. I have no idea how long he'll last like this. It's not good._

_I stand up and face the gunman._

_"These men need a hospital. Please, just let them leave!"_

_"Hey - he's losing consciousness!"_

_Linda yells out to me. Shit, no!_

_I run over to Gary and Linda. Gary's eyes flutter closed and he slips farther down the wall. Damn it!_

_I shift his body so that it's lying flat. What am I supposed to do? I have no equipment here? I am completely helpless! I whip my head around to look at the gunman._

_"There isn't an exit wound. I don't have the proper tools to get the bullet out. He needs to be in an ambulance right now. What's it gonna be?"_

_He's pacing and gulping in deep breaths. He clenches his fists and screams into the air._

_"We are running out of time!"_

_I know I'm pushing it, but I don't care. I stand up and walk toward him, trying to get his attention. I'm getting ballsy. I'm feeling bold. I pull out my cell phone and hold it out to him._

_"Make the call."_

_He stares at me for a second and snatches the phone out of my hand._

_"FUCK!"_

_He screams at no one in particular. And then...he dials._

_"We need an ambulance."_

* * *

This day has not started off well. I slam my locker shut and trudge over to the elevator and push the button. It's taking too long. Damn it. I jam my finger into the button several times, clenching my teeth, feeling my frustration grow with every push. 

"Damn it."

I growl and head to the stairs instead. Just as the door is closing to the stairwell I hear the ding of the elevator. I pause briefly and roll my eyes. Figures. As I practically stomp up the stairs, I try to calm myself down. I'm not normally in this bad of a mood. I'm not usually one to stomp around or fight off urges to beat the crap out of the elevator door. I need to get a grip. I'm at work now. Time to leave the bad mood behind and focus on helping people get better.

Helping people get better. Ha. So much help I was back there in that damned Travel Plaza. If I had been thinking at all, maybe Gary wouldn't have gotten shot. I'd been replaying my dream all morning, but as that thought completes itself in my head it takes me off guard. I stop mid step and grip the railing.

If I had been thinking. It was my fault. That bullet was meant for me.

Before I know it I am sitting on the stairs. One arm is raised above my head, still holding the railing. The other is hanging limply at my side. I can tell my expression is blank and stunned.

Oh my God. I have to find out if he made it. I have to know. What if I killed him? Did Tim make it? Why haven't I check on them already? What the hell is wrong with me? I am a useless, horrible, uncaring person. How did I not think of this before? How did it not occur to me that it was my fault Gary had to be taken off in that ambulance? Did I get hit in the head or something? Why am I remembering bits and pieces, a little everyday? It's like certain details of that 19 hour period of time are just floating around in my brain and every now and then one decides to light up so I can see it - tiny light bulbs waiting to be turned on.

Someone breezes past me, snapping me out of my stupor. I blink, shake my head and stand up. Ok. I'm a doctor, and I'm supposed to be getting to work right now. Maybe I can actually save someone today. Maybe I can redeem myself. I start climbing the stairs again. Redeem myself. Does it even work that way? Will that even begin to make up for what my thoughtlessness did?

I'm deep in thought as my body automatically takes me to the nurse's station. My robotic arm reaches for a chart. I'm flipping through it, and I suppose a part of my brain has retained at least a name and room number to go to since my legs are carrying me down the hallway toward a particular destination.

I wonder what hospital Gary and Tim were taken to. Hold on. What did the paramedics say? Mercy Hospital? No...St. Luke's?? Damn it. I wonder how I can find out. Do we keep phone books here? What town was I even in?

"Ooof. Sorry."

"JD! Uh...hi."

I glance up. It's Elliot. She looks really uncomfortable. Great. What did I do now?

"Hi, Elliot."

I start to walk off, but she puts a hand on my arm. She looks nervous. I'm instantly reminded of how things were between us right after we broke up.

"Are you mad at me?"

I furrow my brow.

"No."

She smiles and breathes a huge sigh of relief. What the hell? She's the one mad at me!

"Oh, thank God! I tried calling you last night after you left the bar. I left like 5 messages on your voicemail. Why didn't you answer your phone?"

I blink at her and I forget temporarily that I don't even have my phone.

"Oh, I didn't hear it ring."

"Well, did you get my messages?"

"No."

She looks confused and cocks her head to the side. She's about to say something else when Kelso clears his throat at us from down the hallway. Oh yeah. No socializing.

"We better...uhh..."

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

We awkwardly move past each other and I put my hand on the doorknob to the room of my first patient when it suddenly occurs to me that I don't have my cell phone. I turn and am about to tell her that, but she's already too far away and Kelso is still watching. I vaguely wonder who else thinks I'm ignoring them before opening the door to smile and greet my patient. Here we go. Different world. Different me. Action.

* * *

I find my mind wandering back to my dream this morning. My memory. I've chosen to sit alone by the window again today in the cafeteria. Right before lunch I noticed Dr. Cox heading into the lounge and I overheard Elliot talking about going in there too. I figured I might as well just avoid any more weirdness so I went where they were not going to be. Although, I never did tell Elliot that my cell phone had been stolen. I'll do that later. Right now I'd just assume not have anyone looking at me let alone talking to me. I know I'm just being paranoid, but I keep convincing myself that people know that I got someone shot. I'm also convincing myself that they know about my freak out session yesterday morning. 

So here I am. Slouched down in the booth, staring out the window. I actually ate a cheeseburger. I barely tasted it. The fries have gotten cold, so they will be thrown away. My chest aches. My mouth is drawn in a straight line. It's one of those moments where I don't think I could muster a proper reaction if someone threw a chair at my head. I feel completely lifeless, except for the dull ache in my chest. My eyes are starting to get out of focus as I stare out the window, causing the image to blur and split in 2. I used to love to do that on purpose when I was a kid. I used to stare at the wallpaper in the living room and unfocus my eyes so the pattern appeared to lift off the paper and sort of float around in my vision. It used to make me smile.

Right now I can't think of anything that would make me smile.

I turn my head and stare at the tabletop. I just keep replaying pieces of that day in my head. If only I had done things differently. If only I didn't lunge at Tim when I heard he had stopped moving...then maybe Gary would be perfectly fine. If I had found a way to sneakily dial 911 from my cell phone before Tim collapsed...before those first 5 hours went by when the authorities didn't even know we were there - before we all became traumatized for life, including the man who started it all. I'm pretty sure he won't be the same after this. Whoever he is. Wherever he is. What had gone on in his life to lead to that day?

I let myself mull over these things for the whole hour. Just sitting there - staring at nothing, thinking. I didn't have a watch or anything to tell me when my lunch was up. I probably could have sat there for another hour without even realizing it. Luckily I was paged over the intercom. I'm surprised I even heard it over the din in my head. It was Kelso wanting me to come to his office. I stand up and throw my fries away and make my way to his office.

I walk slower than usual...just sort of meandering while my brain continues to ask questions it can't answer. I keep my eyes cast down until I reach his door. It's open. I just slip in and I hear myself say, "Yes, Sir?" but it doesn't sound as polite as it normally does.

"Dr. Dorian. I have your new pager. You can expect it to be taken out of your pay. Hang on to it this time, Sport. This isn't a pager emporium."

Oh. I had completely forgotten I had asked Dr. Kelso for a new pager. I had been using this crappy old one that the janitor had thrown into the dumpster my first year here. I found it a couple months later on the pavement in the parking lot and had held onto it just in case I ever needed a spare. It made me feel disgusting just touching it.

I see his hand reach across with the pager, I reach out and take it. I nod and walk out without ever looking up at him. Somewhere in my head a twinge of bitterness flares up as I realize what just transpired. My new pager is coming out of my pay. As though it was my fault my other one was taken from me from a guy with a gun who was at the end of his rope. I try to shrug it off. Ha. I suppose even that could have been my fault. I was the one who bumped into Tim in the first place. Maybe I started some kind of chain reaction. Maybe seeing Tim's knife sparked something in the guy. Maybe it was all me.

"JD! Where have you been hiding all day?"

Turk.

"Nowhere."

"Oh. Well, what did you do for lunch?"

"Cheeseburger. Cafeteria."

"Ah."

"Yep."

"Hey...are you avoiding me for some reason?"

I finally look him in the eye. He looks the way Elliot looked this morning. I guess it is me. I'm making everyone feel uncomfortable.

"No." Oh come on, JD. Put some effort in. "Why?"

"Well, you haven't returned any of my calls - all week. Didn't you get my messages?"

Oh...I really have to tell people to stop calling my cell phone. I sigh and run my hand through my hair. I lean on the nurse's station and grab a chart.

"Sorry, I keep forgetting to tell you. I don't have my cell phone anymore. I'm not intentionally ignoring you."

Well, that's not completely true...but I also wasn't one of the many people who for all intents and purposes ignored me.

Turk looks relieved. "Oh! Oh, man. I was beginning to wonder if I did or said something and didn't realize it. Phew. So...we're cool?"

Ask me why I don't have my cell phone.

"Yeah."

I wish I could change the channel on my tone of voice. I can't seem to sound happy - not unless I'm with my patients.

"Good. Look, I gotta go. I'll talk to you later."

I nod and stare at the floor again as he leaves. He didn't ask. Maybe I should buy a phone this week. Maybe I should give my new pager number to people. I stay leaning against the nurse's station. I put the chart I had grabbed down and start sending out pages to everyone with the new number. A pager goes off just as I send one to Dr. Cox. He must be coming back from lunch, too. I don't bother looking to see if it's him or not. I just keep sending off my pages until I'm done. A few more pagers are going off around me that probably came from me, but I'm not in the mood to chit-chat.

When I'm done, I grab the chart again and head off for the second half of my day. It feels so good to get back to work. I can still smile and joke with my patients. I'm not faking it. It's genuine and I'm thankful. Throughout the day I get to work here and there with Dr. Cox, Elliot, and Carla. I can be my old self with them while I'm with my patients. Now if I can just be that way again...all the time...then I'd be getting somewhere. But I haven't yet figured out how to get back to that person. Not after all that. Maybe I should go to counseling. I might look into that. Later.

* * *

I'm placing my last patient's chart back in it's slot on the nurse's station desk. I have a headache. I haven't been able to turn my brain off all day. When I wasn't with a patient and thinking about them and their condition, I was thinking about...well all kinds of things. I thought about how I can't wait to check my mail to see if my new debit card arrived yet, or my new license, or insurance card. I'm out of cash and I have no food in my apartment and I still need more lamps...not to mention rugs and furniture and curtains. I wonder when I'll have the money to actually get all of these things, let alone a phone and phone line. I suppose not having to pay the cell phone bill next month will help a little. I thought about going to counseling, but really I just don't think I have what it takes to do that. I don't have that kind of time or energy. I kept thinking about Tim and Gary and everyone else. I thought about all the wrong decisions I made and imaged myself doing things differently and how that could have changed the outcome of the whole thing. 

I realize I've been just standing here staring off into space while my brain continued to whir out of control. I've sort of forgotten I was in a public place, until Turk pulled me back to reality.

"Hey, JD."

"Hey."

He's holding his cell phone out to me. I just raise an eyebrow at it. I glance at Turk who also has a confused look on his face.

"It's Dan...for you."

Dan? Oh. Dan. Damn it. I knew I should have called him somehow. I slowly reach out for the phone and bring it up to my face.

"Hello?"

"Hey Little Brother!"

"Hey, Dan."

"What the hell happened to you last week?"

More than I want to tell you over the phone.

"Sorry. I meant to call. Was mom mad?"

"Naaa. I told her you were spending the week with a hot new girl instead. Everyone seemed pretty impressed by that. I got your message."

"What message?"

"Oh, uh...on Monday night. I called your phone to see where you were and some guy answered saying that you were being held up. Who was that?"

Oh wow. That was Dan? I forgot all about that.

"Oh...uh...that must have been the guy who...uh...my cell phone was stolen."

That sounded brilliant. I glance at Turk who looks stunned, I smile at him sympathetically. Why am I doing that? He didn't get his cell phone stolen. He should be giving me sympathetic smiles.

"Oh, that sucks."

"Yeah."

"So what were you really doing last week, you traitor? You realize I am going to have to kick your ass the next time I see you. You left me alone with Aunt Jeanne."

I smile. Ha ha, serves him right.

"Sorry."

"I can hear the laughter in your voice you little bastard."

I laugh out loud this time. 1000 points to my big brother Dan who has squeezed out my first real laugh in days.

"So how did the week go? I mean, aside from the terror that is Aunt Jeanne? How was the reunion?"

"It was the same as always. Everyone getting drunk and acting like they like each other, until they get you alone and vent about how much they hate everyone. Tons of fun for everyone."

"Hm. I'm sorry I missed that. I still feel badly, though. I wish I could have been there. I got part way there, if that means anything."

Let's see if he asks where I was.

"Where were you anyway?"

YES!

"Well, I was on my way there when-"

"Wait, no! Don't tell me. I want to guess."

My shoulders slump and I feel my face fall. I was so close!

"You want to guess. Of course you do."

What the hell?!

"Ok, did you meet a hot girl stranded on the side of the road and spend the week with her?"

"No."

"I know."

Thanks.

"Oh."

"Did your car break down?"

"No."

"You got called into work?"

"No."

"Damn."

Turk's call waiting beeped.

"Look, this guessing game is great fun and all, but Turk's getting another call. I gotta go. Talk to you later."

"I'll figure it out!"

"Yeah, ok. Bye."

"Bye, little brother."

I hand the phone over to Turk, "You have a call coming in."

He takes the phone. I can hear him talking to whoever it is. It sounds like it could be his mom. She must be asking about Carla and her pregnancy. I give Turk a small wave and start heading off to the locker room.

My head is filling up again. I just missed out on another opportunity to tell someone about what happened. Not that Dan would have been much help. He probably would have just thought it was cool that I was held up, the same way it would have been cool if I had been an extra in a Bruce Willis movie. Maybe it's for the best I didn't tell him. I change into my street clothes and head out. I just got through the doors and have stepped outside when I hear Turk call my name from behind me.

"JD, wait up!"

I stop and wait without turning around. He sounds out of breath by the time he's standing next to me.

"Hey, buddy."

"Hey Chocolate Bear."

"So..."

"So...?"

"So what was that all about? I thought you went home last week?"

Ohhhh. He overheard the conversation. Of course he did, he was standing right there. I feel my heartbeat increase. This could be it. This could be the time I tell him. For some reason I've made it a sacred rule that since I've technically given up on anybody listening to me that they have to ask about it or else I won't tell them. Maybe that's the stupidest thing ever, but I feel like they owe it to me somehow.

"Um...yeah. I tried to. I started out in that direction, but I didn't quite make it."

He looks thoroughly confused. I find it funny, so I laugh. I'm not giving Turk any points for that laugh, that one goes to me and my new found bitterness.

"Dan is trying to guess where I was all week. He's not having very much luck so far."

Turk's face lights up.

"Oh my God!"

"What?"

He starts dancing around, singing, "JD has a secret. JD has a secret."

Great. I can tell already this is going to be fruitless. I just stand there staring at him with a completely unamused look on my face. Dr. Cox walked out while Turk was still doing his little dance. He stopped and watched with his eyebrow raised. I glanced at him and then roll my eyes and stare at my feet, waiting for Turk to finish his dance. I felt myself getting really annoyed with Turk. Just cut it out already! We get it!

"Buddy, do you know what this means?!"

"Umm...no?"

"JD, for as long as I've known you, you've never been able to keep a secret."

"That's not true."

Is it?

"You can't keep anything in. This is a hallmark moment. Dr. Cox, JD didn't go home last week. He's keeping where he really was a secret so we can guess!"

No I'm not!

"Do you have any words for this once in a lifetime occasion?"

Dr. Cox smiled and bounced up on his heels with his hands in his pockets.

"Ah, let's see. What can I say...to my Meredith, whose transparency is only exceeded by her utter incompetence. May you hold on to this precious secret for as long as your delicate, dainty hands can grip. May you not give in to Carla's persuasive tactics, but hold fast to the knowledge that-" his voice changed from high and dripping with insincere sentiment to his usual low, rough tone, "I don't give a crap."

He rolled his eyes, scoffed, and walked off with a wave of his arm.

Well. There you have it folks. Dan and Turk are just excited that I have a secret, and Dr. Cox couldn't care less. Elliot and Carla still think I had a fabulous weekend and are pissed that they didn't have one, and don't want to hear anything about it. So where does that leave me? Same place I was yesterday. Drained of all hope that anyone will listen to me.

"Hey, dude. You want to come over tonight? There's a brand new episode of the Gilmore Girls on. Whaddya say?!"

Somehow I just don't have what it takes.

"Oh, sorry, Turk. I have to take care of some things at the apartment. Maybe next time."

"Yeah, ok."

He actually looks really disappointed. I feel bad now.

"Star Trek convention!"

"What?"

"You were at a Star Trek convention last week!"

"No."

"Oh. I am _so_ gonna guess. I'm going to guess before Dan does - just you watch!"

Ok, I don't feel bad anymore. I sigh and start to walk off to my scooter.

"Yeah, ok. Good night Turk."

"You waited in line all week at Wal Mart for the new White Trash Barbie!"

"No."

"Damn. Good night!"

I wave and pause to let Dr. Cox drive by. Maybe I'll have some good news waiting in my mailbox. God knows I need something to get me through. I mentally try to picture the contents of my medicine cabinet. Getting to sleep might be something of a challenge if my brain keeps running the way it has been all day. I wonder if I have any Tylenol PM. Maybe I should check the hospital's stash, see if I can grab some sample packets. I'd rather get more than 3 hours of sleep this time. Last night proved to be a crappy night for sleeping. Maybe if I get a good night's sleep I can just work through lunch tomorrow and not have to deal with...anyone. I guess I'll figure that out once I get there.

I have a lot to do tonight though before I can close my eyes. I have to see if I can track down Gary and Tim and see how they're doing (_if_ they're doing). I wonder how the rest of the "hostages" are dealing with this. I hope better than I am. Of course, they wouldn't have the guilt of getting someone shot on their conscience, would they? This sucks.

* * *

**Author's Note: Hey guys & dolls! Thank you everyone for your awesome reviews!! It's always so jaw dropping to me that people actually like my chapters...bizarro. Anyway, I think I'm going to throw in some Dr. Cox POV chapters in this story. I've never done that before, but that's my plan. Wish me luck!**


	7. Chapter 6: My Boy, All GrownUp

**Disclaimer: I own nothing **

**Dr. Cox's POV**

**

* * *

**** A week and 3 days later... **

"What? I thought she was pregnant with Jason's baby?"

"Mm hmm. That's what she told Cheryl, but it's really Grant's baby."

Thanks, Lavern. I'm glad someone here pays more attention to this show than I do. Makes me feel like less of a girl.

"Ohhhh."

Ahhhh, this is what I needed -a quiet lunch break, sprawled out on the couch, watching my soap. The ultimate in relaxation. I've actually been getting more of these types of breaks lately. Ever since Newbie went on vacation I've had the most peace and quiet here than I have since...well, since that little piss ant started here. I'm not asking any questions. I'm not doubting my luck. I'm just going to sit back and enjoy my break...or, the 15 minutes I have left of it.

"Turk, calm down. I'm sure he's fine."

Damn it. Couldn't the Apple Dumpling Gang have waited just 15 more minutes?! I sit up and whip my head around to give Barbie one of my best glares. Hey! Look at me when I'm glaring at you! She's not looking. I can't just sit here holding this glare forever...now I just feel silly. I growl and flop back down on the couch and turn my attention back to the tv.

"I'm just sayin', he could be passed out somewhere from lack of lunch."

"Lack of lunch? Turk, that's just stupid."

Heh heh, you tell him Carla. Oh crap, they've gone and distracted me. Damn them. Maybe I should try glaring again.

"Well, he hasn't had lunch with us all week! For all we know he's not eating. He could be starving to death!"

"Turk, he looked fine this morning. I'm sure we would have noticed if he was starving to death. He's just on a different lunch schedule that's all. I'm sure he's eating. It's JD. He's fine. Why are you so obsessed with this all of a sudden?"

"It's that new theory of his he's working on. You know, the one where JD doesn't make it to his mom's house because of Dr. Phil?"

"Oooohh."

Ok, yep. Death stare is definitely in order. Maybe I should make a noise or something to get their attention. I whistle loudly, Gandhi, Carla, and Barbie all turn to look at my terrifying death stare.

"Dr. Cox, would you please tell Turk that just because JD hasn't had lunch with _us_ doesn't mean he's not having lunch."

What? They're not shrinking back in fear? They're actually trying to draw me into the conversation? When did I lose the ability to make Barbie pee her pants at the mere thought of me? I need some new material. Right now though, it's quite clear that my lunch break is over - 10 minutes early, but over. I growl and stand up. I think about breezing past them, bumping shoulders as I go without answering the question. But since I just loooove to hear myself talk...

"Well, Barbie. I think it's safe to conclude that Scarlet may be trying to slim down for that Miss Pansy Ass competition next week. She's probably on a liquid diet. Don't worry, it's perfectly safe. In fact, you might want to consider that yourself. With that pretty face and vacant stare, I think you would definitely make runner up." I pretend to flip my hair over my shoulder and walk away. Of course I try to walk as slowly as possible (without raising suspicion) to hear the reaction.

"See! I told you something was up. It's like I said - hypnotism."

"Turk, for the last time. JD was not kidnapped by Dr. Phil and then hypnotized to lose weight during his vacation."

What? What kind of reaction is that? I am seriously losing my touch. I have to figure out what's to blame for this and destroy it.

Hypnotism? Brilliant, Gandhi. Although, I have to say I have noticed Newbie's absences at lunch lately. He's still always around, getting under my feet...but he's always _working_. Given that's what he's here to do, work, that shouldn't be a strange thing...but since we_ are_ talking about Newbie here - who belongs to the current generation of slack asses and ingrates...it's noteworthy. I'm not even sure he takes lunch breaks everyday. At first I just thought it was because of this damn audit. Thank God that's nearly over. At least I'm not having to bite my tongue all day long. Those first couple weeks were intolerable. If it wasn't for Jordan and the baby I would have just walked out. But since I have to be Mr. Financially Responsible now, that wasn't exactly an option.

Newbie hasn't slowed down at all. Since the corporate puppets in tailored suits came and went two days ago, everyone else has relaxed. Even Bob-o has gotten off everyone's backs. Things around here have more or less gotten back to normal, but he's still running around acting like an actual professional doctor all the time. It's really starting to piss me off. I can't work with him acting like that. I need the old Newbie back. I'm running out of targets to rag on and that has lead to more outbursts at home. We all know how well those go over with Jordan.

I guess it was inevitable, though. I always knew that one day that kid would finally grow up. One day I would turn around and notice that he wasn't staring off into space anymore, that he wasn't goofing off every chance he got, that he wasn't always following after me asking me questions, needing advice. But, I guess I assumed that would be a few years from now. I thought it would be more gradual. Instead I get this "insta-adult, do not add thyme". I don't know what to do with him anymore.

I'm actually really proud of him. Not that I would ever admit that, but I am. He's really stepped up to the plate these past two weeks. He's worked harder than anyone else, and he's still going strong. A part of me is pissed off that he won't slow the hell down...mostly because he's making the rest of us look bad. I never thought I'd see the day when Newbie would make me look like a slacker. I'm feeling a little violent just thinking about it. I have to blow off some steam. If Newbie were here (and normal) I could find something to yell at him about. Damn him.

Oh good, the stairwell. I think a good "stair storming" could do me some good. I punch open the door with more force than is necessary and wait until I'm out of site before I smile to myself. That felt good. Nothing like a good "throw open the door and make it hit the wall when it opens" to clear your mind. I'm taking the steps two at a time, just letting out some angry energy, when I see something at the edge of my vision.

Oh bloody hell, it's Newbie. What is he doing here? He's interrupting my stair storming. Damn it! As I get closer, I realize he's just sitting on the window sill, staring outside. There's a bag of carrot sticks next to him. Is this where he spent his lunch break? In the stairwell? I pause briefly to look at him. Not that I pay attention or anything, but it is a little odd that he's been spending lunch break alone all of a sudden...when he takes one at all. And I'm not one to notice this sort of thing, but I think he may have lost a few pounds. Dr. Phil, huh? Oh - my - God. I have got to stop listening to those idiots. It's time to stop thinking about how sad he looks sitting there all alone, and instead I have to channel my anger and aim it directly at him since he ruined my plan to take it out on the stairs.

"Awww...what's wrong, Claire? Did the other kids make fun of you and kick you off of the playground?"

Sometimes I can't decide if I'm proud of myself for being such a grade A ass all the time or if I make myself sick. Right now is one of those times where I can't quite decide. But when he turns to look at me and I see the look on his face...well...I still can't decide. He looks tired, which is understandable given the energy he expends here on a daily basis...but it's more than that. There is a deeper weariness there that I've been seeing more and more in him. It's something I've seen in myself, something I've seen in patients, but I have never, _ever_ seen that in him before...not even close.

He takes his time responding, which starts to bug me. I'm not sure if it bugs me because I'm an impatient guy or because he's not normally this...mellow. He slowly turns his head and fixes me with this stare - this strange, weary, deadened stare. Then he turns away and slowly uncurls himself out of the protective ball he had been sitting in and stretches out. He looks stiff. I wonder how long he's been sitting like that, with his knees pulled up to his chest. How can he even do that? Finally he swings his legs over the edge of the windowsill and looks back up at me. This time he's changed his expression. He actually looks annoyed. Huh.

He opens his mouth like he's about to say something. Then he closes it, shakes his head and just gets up to walk off. What the hell? Ok, that is the third time today my snide comments have bounced off instead of piercing. Seriously, this is really started to get to me. Someone better do something really stupid so I can actually go off on them and have some kind of validity to it. There is some serious rage building up here and that can only end one way. Badly.

He's almost to the door now. Just looking at the way his shoulders are slumped just makes me want to...awww...damn it. Say something to the kid before he walks back out into the hallway.

"Newbie..."

Terrific. He's waiting for me to say something. I suppose I should have had a plan detailing what comes next. Why did I stop him again?

"Are you...are you..." Oh balls. "Are you ok?" Damn it.

He slowly turns to look at me. At first I swear I'm looking at the old, hopeful Newbie - but then he blinks and I'm looking into defiant, cold eyes. His jaw is set and he's practically staring me down. I hate to say it, but this is almost unnerving...if it's possible for Princess to unnerve me...and I'm quite sure it is not.

He takes a deep breath, opens his mouth, closes it...then closes and eyes. When he opens them he almost looks angry, but there's something else there too that I can't put my finger on.

"Don't ask questions unless you plan on actually listening to the answer."

Um...I was soooo not expecting that. I'm speechless. I must look stunned. Wha...I mean...what kind of a response is that? You know what? Forget it. I was trying to be nice. He looked lonely. He looked sad. I thought I would put in a _little_ effort and try to...oh...I don't know...connect! And that's the response I get? Doesn't this kid know how rare it is for me to reach out like that? Ok, I realize that it was one stupid question that I could barely get out and I'm pretty sure I followed it with an eye roll, but... Damn it! Now he's standing there waiting with that stupid look on his face that I don't know what to do with, and I'm pissed that this is all weird now. It's really his fault. If he just said "Yeah, I'm fine Dr. Cox." then everything would be peachy...but no. He had to be all challenging and _bitter_. Holy Lord. JD was bitter! What the hell?! Ok, that's it. Too much weirdness for me.

"You're right, Charlotte. What was I thinking? I don't care!"

Ha! Take that! All there is left to do is hit him in the shoulder as I walk by and completely avoid eye contact so I don't have to see how disappointed he is as I walk away. Victory!

So why do I feel like such an ass? Oh, that's right. Because that's who I am. An ass.

Damn it.

* * *

**Author's Note: Ok. That was my first attempt at Dr. Cox POV. Meh. I decided to keep it short. Please go easy! Actually, no. No good ever comes from taking the easy way out (I should know, I'm the expert at taking the easy way out). I only ask one thing - speak the truth in love.**


	8. Chapter 7: My Deafening Silence

Author's Note: This is the same scene from Dr. Cox's POV last chapter - obviously different POV

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**Disclaimer: I own nothing**

**JD's POV**

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It's been three weeks - three weeks since I was held hostage in that building and my life changed, two weeks since I came back into work - hopeful that I could leave it all behind me with a little help from my friends, one week since I went to see Gary in the hospital.

I finally made some calls and found out which hospital Tim and Gary had been taken to. Tim wasn't there, and of course no one at the hospital could tell me anything...stupid doctor/patient confidentiality. Gary was still there. He had been taken into emergency surgery upon arrival and fell into a coma during recovery. That's the state I found him in. When I went to his room, his wife and daughter were in there, watching over him. I managed to hang around in the hallway outside his room for a good 2 hours without them knowing I was there. Then I waited until they left to grab some lunch before slipping into his room.

His wife and daughter were gone for an hour and a half. That was long enough for me to tell him I was sorry - sorry for disobeying the guy with the gun, sorry for moving when I did, the way I did...sorry for getting him shot. They came back to find me crying into Gary's hand. They were shocked to say the least. I tried to explain who I was, but they seemed to know before I could finish. I think they were a little confused, though, because instead of slapping me and screaming at me to leave...they hugged me. They hugged me and told me they were so thankful for me, that I saved his life. They rubbed my back, held my hand, and touched my cheek.

They didn't really know who I was...and I'm a coward for not telling them. I'd like to think that I didn't tell them to spare them of whatever pain the truth might cause them...but unfortunately I don't believe that. The truth is...I didn't tell them because I wanted to protect myself. I didn't want to see the hurt and hatred in their eyes directed at me. I didn't want them to shove me away and tell me never to come back again. I wanted them to keep hugging me and touching me...I wanted their comfort.

The ironic thing is, I'm pretty sure their comfort made me feel worse in the end. Not only do I get to feel guilty for being the reason why Gary is in that coma, but I get to feel guilty for accepting comfort from the very people that should be pushing me away.

His wife's name is Linda, and his daughter's name is Abbey. Abbey is 22 and is a senior is college, studying French. Gary and Linda have been married for 25 years…25 years as of next month. They have travel arrangements already made. They were going to take a cruise to Alaska. They've always wanted to go to Alaska.

They were actually able to give me a few details about Tim. I was right – Tim did have a heart attack. I guess he was discharged a few days ago. They weren't sure, but they think he had some sort of surgery. They couldn't tell me what kind or anything. I even asked them if they had any contact information for him, or an address or anything. Of course they didn't. They said that no one came to visit Tim the whole time he was there at the hospital, and that a taxi came to pick him up when he left.

If it wasn't humiliating enough to have Linda and Abbey walk in to see a complete stranger crying over their husband/father, I started crying all over again when I heard about how alone Tim seemed to be. _I_ could have been there. If I had just found out earlier where they were…I could have been there. I could have visited. That whole week after the hold up, I could have been going over to the hospital instead of staying in that dreary hotel room and hanging out at the police station.

It's too late now. It's too late for a lot of things. I can't go back and change my decisions back at the Travel Plaza. I can't stop Tim from having a heart attack. I can't stop myself from losing my mind and charging over to Tim only to get Gary shot. I can't stop him from going into that coma. I can't make it up to Tim by stopping by his house to make sure he's all right…I don't know where to look!

So there I was, accepting comfort from Linda and Abbey, when all I deserved was coldness and anger. I didn't deserve their gratitude or their graciousness…and it's killing me. I can't get away from it. It's all I think about. I see Gary's pale face in my sleep, I see it when I stop moving, during down times, I see it when there's a break in activity, and when there is a moment of quiet. It's not just his face, either. I see Linda and Abbey tearfully watching over him...waiting for him to wake up and come back to them.

You'd think that I would try my hardest to surround myself with noise. In a way I do. I try to keep moving as much and as fast as possible to avoid quiet moments. But when those moments become inevitable, like lunch...I always find myself purposefully seeking out alone time. I guess it's just too hard to make conversation with people who don't understand what's going on in my brain. It's all I think about, so it's all I'm really interested in talking about...but I don't know how.

I know I'm being stubborn and thickheaded. I know that most of this silence is self-imposed. I could just forget my idiotic rule of "they need to ask me before I say anything" and just tell them. I can't get those earlier attempts out my head, though. They were devastating. I just don't know how I'd deal with that sort of rejection again. I know everyone was stressed out with this damn audit and everyone has other things going on in their lives...I'm sure if they knew they wouldn't have reacted like that. I hope. Unless deep down they know that I'm the sort of person who gets innocent people shot...in which case...maybe they would have rejected me.

Anyway...so here I am...sitting on the windowsill on the third floor landing of the east wing stairwell. I'm pretty amazed at how few people actually use the stairs around here. I've been pretty much undisturbed this whole time, and my lunch break is just about over. Of course, that's what I was hoping for...but...it's surprising none-the-less. I actually brought a little baggy of carrot sticks for lunch. I told Lavern that I was trying to eat healthier, but really I just thought that they would crunch loud enough in my ears to drown out my thoughts. That worked at first, but then it just gave me a headache, so I stopped. Maybe I should have brought a sandwich or something.

I hear footsteps on the stairs. I don't feel like looking to see who it is, but I'm going to guess that they belong to Dr. Cox based on the sound. I should be getting back to work, but I think I'll just wait for him to walk on by before moving. His footsteps sound angry and determined...it's probably best that I don't make any sudden movements. Oh crap...they've stopped. Maybe if I just ignore him he'll just move along.

"Awww...what's wrong, Clair? Did the other kids make fun of you and kick you off of the playground?"

Maybe not. I slowly turn to look at him. Suddenly I feel exhausted, like that tiny movement of turning my head took all the energy I had. I really don't feel like dealing with his attitude right now. Someone should really pull out the stick he has stuck up his butt and be done with it. Oh well…now that he decided to stop and make me feel like a tiny piece of nothing, I may as well get up. Standing up is actually somewhat of a challenge. I guess staying in that position for an hour wasn't the best idea I've ever had. I look back at Dr. Cox. He's waiting for me to say something to his stupid, antagonistic question.

I open my mouth and am about to blurt out, "No, I was playing with matches and accidentally burned the playground down and now I have nowhere to play."

I change my mind and just decide to walk away. It's really not worth it. I would just be begging for some sort of snarky retort from him, and that wouldn't help anything. I'm almost to the door when he finally finds his voice again.

"Newbie..."

I stop and wait. He used that tone that tells me wants to say something, but he can't quite figure out how to say it.

"Are you...are you..." Pause. "Are you ok?"

Oh….huh. I wasn't expecting that. Is he...I mean, is he really asking me that? I turn to look at him and I instantly realize my mistake. He has that "I can't believe I just asked that" expression on his face and I know that he didn't really mean it. I blink. I can't believe I actually almost fell for that. I can't believe I let myself catch a glimmer of hope, even if it was for a brief second. I find myself just staring at him, like a face off. It's not normally a good idea to face off with Dr. Cox, but I'm feeling determined and fierce. I feel like I could win.

"Don't ask questions unless you plan on actually listening to the answer."

Ha! What are you gonna do with that one Dr. Cox? I continue to stare at him...waiting. I'm really curious to see what he says. I can feel that stupid warmth of hope starting to form in my gut...that thing that wonders if maybe this time he'll come through. Maybe he'll just forget about those walls he has built up all around him and just be sincere for once. Maybe he meant his question and he wants a real, truthful answer from me. Maybe he is just messing with me...maybe he just wanted to see if I would take his bait like I always do. He probably didn't count on me figuring him out…him and his little misanthropic games.

"You're right, Charlotte. What was I thinking? I don't care!"

And there it is. Top it off with the shoulder bump, and he's out the door. It's what I expected. It's what always happens. I even prepared myself for it this time. Hell, I set the stage, really…practically dared him to do it. But still….it hurts.

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**Author's Note: Sorry so short. I contemplated continuing on from this ending point, but then I thought...naa…I'll just end this chapter here and start a new chapter right away! I realize this does very little to move the story line along, but...that's just how it is. I hope this isn't too maddening!**


	9. Chapter 8: My Thank You

**Disclaimer: Not mine**

_**Flashbacks in italics**_

**JD's POV**

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**Two days later...**

_"Nice knife you got there. You fish a lot?"_

_"Yeah, something like that."_

_"Oh. I haven't gone fishing in...well...ever."_

_He laughed, and the corners of his eyes crinkled up. Suddenly he looked far less scary then he did just a second ago. I found myself laughing too, even though I had no idea what we were laughing at._

_"I'm Tim."_

_He held his hand out to me. It was thick and calloused with dirt under his short nails. There was something in his voice that made me trust him, that erased that first intimidating impression of him. I shook his hand._

_"JD."_

_We both stood up._

_"I mostly hunt, but I do a fair bit of fishing."_

_"Is that what you do...for a living I mean?"_

_Tim laughed again, I smiled instantly._

_"No, not really. Well, it does keep me alive, yes, but I don't get paid for it. I used to work on Wall Street, actually. Made six figures a year with a five figure bonus every year for Christmas."_

_My jaw dropped._

_"And now you...?"_

_"Now I live in cabin in the middle of nowhere about two and a half hours from here and live off the land, so to speak."_

_He smiled a warm, gentle smile._

_"I'm a doctor."_

_That didn't sound as cool as it usually does. Tim clapped me on the shoulder with one of his beefy hands and laughed again._

_"A doctor? Good for you. I could have used you a while back, when I got this." He gestured to the scar on his face. "Got in an argument with a local. He got a good swing in before I shot him and made him into the carpet in my cabin."_

_Whhaa? _

_"A bear. He had been getting into my bee hives. I chased after him, with my gun in my hand, like a fool. I should have just stayed clear and shot at him. What can I say...he made me mad. I stitched it up myself."_

_"Ahh..g-good work..." No way that sounded sincere._

_Tim threw his head back and laughed again - a laugh that bubbled up from his stomach._

_"So...what made you leave Wall Street...and-"_

_"The six figures a year?"_

_I smiled and nodded._

_"It wasn't worth it. I was 28 going on 70. I worked every waking hour and had driven everyone I loved away. The people left in my life, that I called friends, were only out to get my position and my salary. My health was going down the tubes...and it was all for what? A fancy car and a silk suit. Empty."_

_"So, you moved out to the wilderness to live the simple life."_

_"Yep. Built myself a cabin, bought a 15 year old truck...I grow and catch my own food. I come to town a handful of times a year to stock up, and that's it."_

_This guy was so interesting. I wish I was going back to his cabin with him to just hang out on his bear skin rug by the fire to hear him tell stories._

_"Wow. You're like Grizzly Adams."_

_There's that laugh again._

_"No beard though."_

_Oh yeah...it seems like he should have a beard._

_"You should definitely grow a beard."_

_"I wish I could...but for some reason I've never been able to grow one."_

_Me either, we're like twins. I wonder if his last name starts with a D...TD and JD. TD just sounds wrong...never mind._

_"I'm 41 years old and I still can't grow a beard...which is sad really because I could use it to cover this scar."_

_I leaned against the wall and crossed my arms to settle in to our conversation._

_"So, Tim, how long have you been living like this?"_

_"About 11 years."_

_"By yourself?"_

_"Yep. Just me and creation."_

_"Doesn't it ever get lonely?"_

_"At times, yes. But I've found that it's better to be lonely than let down."_

* * *

"JD. Hey, JD. Hellllooooo!" 

"And now I've let him down..."

"What?"

Oh, wow. I was completely spaced out there.

"Sorry, Elliot...just, uh...what were you saying?"

Elliot put her hand on her hip and sighed in frustration at me.

"You have been so out of it lately. More than usual I mean."

I scratched the back of my neck and could feel myself blush.

"I'm sorry. A lot on my mind, I guess."

She throws her arms up onto the counter of the nurse's station and drops her head into her hands.

"Tell me about it. My mom is coming to visit tomorrow and I haven't told her about Keith yet, and he's practically living with me now! I just know she's going to ruin this for me somehow."

I rub her back and smile...trying to be reassuring.

"Elliot, I've known you for what...5 years now?"

Elliot nodded into her hands.

"You have grown so much in that 5 years. You are a strong, independent, sexy doctor now. You practically run this place! I know you could totally take her. Just warn Keith ahead of time and then give her hell if she acts out."

Elliot just groaned and whimpered.

"Thanks, JD, but I'm not so sure I am capable of giving my mom hell. And even if I do warn Keith, who's to say he's not going to take one look at her and think that's what I'm going to be like in another 20 years? What if he spazzes out and leaves me?"

I turn around so I can lean against the counter on my elbows.

"Ok, I highly doubt that will happen...but if it does...well...then he's obviously not ready for this relationship."

Elliot leans into me and puts her head on my shoulder.

"My mom is a train wreck. And she normally pulls anyone who passes by into the wreck with her." She sighs. "Keith is doomed."

"I'm doomed? Why am I doomed?"

Oops. Everyone has the craziest timing in this place.

"Hey Keith."

"Hey Dr. Dorian."

I push off the counter and Elliot clings to my scrubs sleeve, "JD, help!"

I pat her hand and smile at her, "Elliot, relax. Just talk to him. Tell him why he's doomed."

Keith let out a tiny shriek.

I walk away and say to Keith under my breath as I leave, "If it means anything, I don't think your doomed. Whatever she says just tell her, 'you are not your mother'."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Ah, Elliot and her mom related freak out sessions. I shake my head and realize I'm smiling. Huh. I'm smiling. Since when did that become a strange sensation? Oh great, now that my idiot brain realized smiling has become a rarity - the smile is gone. Damn it. My pager is going off, I guess it's time to officially start the day. Oh, it's Lavern. I turn back and see her looking at me from the top of her glasses at the nurse's station. She's pointing to a small bouquet of flowers on the counter. Are those for one of my patients?

I walk back over to the desk, past Elliot and Keith who are talking quietly (yet intensely) about Elliot's mom.

"Hey, Lavern. You rang?"

"These are you for you." She sounds a little perturbed.

"Oh...thanks..."

Weird. Who would send me flowers? It's not my birthday, is it? I look at the envelope and my breath hitches.

"Oh my God."

It's from Linda and Abbey.

"I don't know why you're so upset about it. At least you got flowers." Lavern huffs and walks away mumbling, "No one ever send me flowers."

I stare at the envelope, my hand is shaking. My mind is going crazy with reasons why they would send me flowers. Did Gary die? I was just there again yesterday... when did he have time to die and when did they have time to send me flowers to tell me? Why would they tell me with flowers? Maybe he woke up! Maybe they found out about me and are using flowers to gloss over the restraining order.

"Awwww...you got flowers? Keith, JD got flowers!"

I glance up at Elliot, still holding the unopened card in my hand.

"He looks shocked." Keith stage whispered to Elliot.

"He does look shocked. Well...he did just get flowers. It is kind of shocking." Elliot stage whispered back.

"Oh, Bridget - did your mommy send you flowers? Did someone take a boom boom in the potty for the first time?"

Oh, good. Add Dr. Cox to the mix of on lookers. Why is it that when I actually want privacy it's nowhere to be seen?

"Open the card!"

Tremendous, now I have an audience.

I turn slightly toward the counter to try to keep the card from their prying eyes. I hope no one can see my hands shaking. I tear open the envelope and close my eyes for a brief second just to prepare myself.

It reads: "Thank you so much for coming to see us, and Gary, again yesterday. It means so much to us that there is someone else out there watching out for Gary. We don't know what we would have done without your quick thinking that day when he was shot. Before you came we were finding it difficult to translate all the medical jargon. That alone we appreciate more than you could know. We hope to see you again soon, JD. Gratefully yours, Linda and Abbey"

A bark of a laugh burst out of my mouth, then catches in my throat on its way back in. The card in front of me grew blurry. Great. I am tearing up. I don't cry in front of people! I turn away and stuff the card back in its envelope while trying my hardest to blink away the tears. My hands aren't working properly and it takes me a few tries to get the card in without bending it all the hell.

"Well? Who's it from?"

"Uh..." I blink a few more times and practice smiling before I turn around to answer Elliot. "It's a thank you bouquet..."

"Ohhh...from a patient?"

I don't really look up at anyone. I just stuff the card in my pocket and mumble, "Well, sort of."

Elliot's too busy sticking her face in the flowers to hear me, and no one else is really paying attention anymore. I can't believe it. Why would they thank me? Why would they take the time to send me flowers while their loved one is lying in a hospital bed in a coma because of my thoughtlessness? Why?

I vaguely hear Elliot babbling in the background about how she's never gotten flowers from a patient before and how it's not fair. I'm just staring at the flowers. I reach out slowly to touch one of the blooms. I don't know anything about flowers. I don't even know what these are? They're beautiful, though.

"I'm just as good a doctor as JD is, and no one has ever given me flowers! It's just because he's such a brown-noser. I could get flowers from my patients, too if I started smooching their butts the way he does with his whole 'go the extra mile' crap."

Keith is trying to reassure Elliot that she _is _a good doctor that deserves flowers. Normally I would find the site of him petting her while semi-frantically blubbering out compliments infuriating, but I'm not focused on that right now. I'm more worried about the surge of emotion I can feel welling up in my gut. I can probably count on one hand the amount of times I've cried in front of anyone other than my absolute closest friends and family. Even then the number would be rather low. I don't see any reason why I should add one more to the count.

I mumble a quick, "Excuse me" and walk away. I'm not sure where I'm going, but as I walk away it becomes frightfully clear that I have to get there fast. One tear has already escaped. I can hear the janitor, he must be close by. What if he's coming this way? Ah! I have to hide! In a panic I duck into the closest room - which is ironically a supply closet. Great. The janitor could easily be heading to this room anyway!

I don't know why, but I hold my breath and wait. I can here him whistling to himself, and I can hear the wheels of the mop bucket squeaking as he wheels by. He doesn't stop. They fade away and I let my breath out slowly and slump down on the floor and rest my head against the wall.

My body seems to instinctively know when it's safe to let go and before I know it the tears are flowing. I can feel my face contort in an ugly grimace and my shoulders shake from the power of the sobs. It always amazes me that even when my whole body convulses I can still cry without making a sound. So here I am, hiding in the supply closet crying like a little boy - crying like Elliot used to.

I can't even pin point why I'm crying. If Dr. Cox or someone were to ask me if I was ok or if there was anything wrong now, I'm not sure what I would even say. Am I ok? I'm here. I'm alive. I'm not lying in a hospital bed in a coma or recovering from a heart attack. I guess I'm ok. So, what's wrong? Why am I crying? Because someone sent me flowers as a thank you? I should be smiling.

I feel so many things right now, I don't think I could begin to name all the emotions. I feel helpless, useless, unworthy of Linda and Abbey's praise. I feel tired and stretched, guilty, vulnerable yet hidden. I feel grateful and overcome, responsible, secretive, scared, sad, weak. So many things. And all I can do is cry and shake. My nose is starting to run.

After a few minutes the sobs subside and the tears stop flowing. Now I just feel wretched. I need a tissue. It's been a long time since I've looked at myself in a mirror after a good cry, but I remember my eyelids being bright red, my eyes blood shot, and my face blotchy. I bet that's how I look now. I wish I could remember how long that lasts before my face goes back to normal. I sit in silence for a minute, sniffing every now and then, trying to figure out what my next move should be.

My pager beeps. I sigh and rub my eyes before looking at it. Dr. Cox - of course. Now what? Tissues. I should look for tissues. I stand up and start rummaging through the various boxes on the shelves. Crap. No tissues. Oh, wait! Toilet paper. That will do. Ok. I've blown my nose...I don't know what else to do. I wish I could sneak into a bathroom without anyone seeing me so I can look at myself. Maybe I can find something with a reflective surface in here.

My pager beeps again. Damn it. Dr. Cox again. I take it from his "Judith - where the hell are you?!" message he's getting impatient. I can't go out there yet! My face will give me away. The best thing to do is sit and wait a few more minutes and hope Dr. Cox doesn't kill me when I finally appear. It's quiet in here. I hate waiting. I hate standing still. I stare at the floor. There is a ring of wetness left by one of the mop buckets in the corner. It reminds me of something.

_

* * *

_

_Someone spilled their drink on the floor over by the trash can. It looks like someone was about to clean it up judging by the mop bucket and the mop left discarded on the floor. I didn't notice that before. I bet that job was interrupted by all of this. Looking at the spill on the floor I can't help but feel disgusting sitting here on the floor. I would rather be made to stand for hours on end doing nothing then sit on a dirty public floor doing nothing. I wonder what the drink was. A cola of some kind. That's going to be sticky. I wonder if he would let me clean that up. _

_Heh. I can just picture the janitor standing there by the mop bucket, mop in hand, giving me that look that says he knows I was the one who spilled it. I feel a small smile tug at the corners of my mouth. Right about now I would love to see him walk through that door. I bet he would scare even this guy into giving up the game and letting us all go. But the mop isn't in his hands. It's lying on the floor. The janitor would never leave his mop on the floor like that. He's not coming. I wish someone would clean that up. _

* * *

"AH!" 

What the hell? Someone grabs my arm and yanks me out of the closet. When did the door open? I must have been daydreaming...again.

"Sheila, just what do you think you're doing? I paged you four times!"

I feel really disoriented. I can hear myself say, "Four? I thought it was only twice..." but the rest of me isn't really paying attention. I'm looking at the door to the supply closet trying to figure out what just happened. Then I check my pager. Oh. He's right. I didn't even hear it. Huh. When I zone, I really zone.

Dr. Cox snaps his fingers in front of my face. Oh. Right. Dr. Cox.

"S-sorry, what...what, uh...did you need something?"

I scratch my head and point my face down and to the side in hopes that he doesn't get a good look at it. I can feel my face burning up with the very thought that I may have been caught "post cry fest".

I can see Dr. Cox bouncing on his heels with his hands stuffed in his pockets. I'm not looking, but I'm sure he has that smile - the one that's not really a smile but a "I'm going to kill you if you so much as breathe too loudly" snarl.

"Oh, Betty. Betty - need something? From you?" He laughs. "That's just...that's got to be one of the best jokes you have ever made. You know, a few more of those hum dingers and you could really take your little show on the road. I'm telling you, I think you really have a future here. I know you don't want to leave the comfort of your mother's womb and all just yet, but you've got to do it sometime, right? And what time like the present?"

He puts his arm around me and starts walking me down the hallway toward the lobby. I imagine that we could look like two buddies walking down the hall the way his arm is draped across my shoulders - to anyone who didn't know better that is. He seems to fake friendly gestures when he's particularly annoyed...or leading you to your death. Oh Lord, what am I in for now? Am I late to something?

"Bridget, what you do in your free time is none of my business and so help me I _really_ don't want to know why you were in the closet staring at the floor instead of answering my pages or - God forbid - _working_. But, what can I say - girls will be girls."

He pats me on my shoulder, almost like a dad would his child. Then of course he roughly swings his arm off me like I was made of cow dung and scowls at me while shaking his head. We're in the lobby now. I think he's finished his little tirade. He crosses his arms over his chest and glares at me. I forget that I don't want him to see my face and look up at him. He looks irritated. He blinks and there is a different expression on his face for a second, but he blinks again and it's gone before I had a chance to put a label on it.

"Um...why did you page me?"

He nods his head at something behind me. I turn my head. The usual looking crowd is hanging around, but I don't see anyone that has anything to do with me. There are a couple of police officers over by the desk.

"Those men are here to see you."

Oh. I swallow hard and look at them again. Why would the police be here to see me? Unless...they had some news to give me...and it probably would be bad news.

"Me? Are you sure? Did they say why?"

Dr. Cox looks bored. "I'm not your secretary, Newbie." He spits out.

Oh God oh God oh God. Someone died I know it. I can feel the blood drain from my face. I'm shaking again. I can't do this. I can't go talk to them.

"I hope whatever you did was worth it."

I swallow again and turn to look at the men. They haven't noticed me yet. I know I should be moving. I should be heading over there, but I'm stuck. For a fleeting second I wonder if the janitor has glued me in place again. I realize that Dr. Cox is still behind me. Do I want him to hear whatever it is these men are going to say? I'm thinking no, mostly. I clear my throat and turn to look at him.

"Uh, are you really just going to stand there while I go talk to them?"

His mouth stretches into a wide grin and he laughs, "Oh, Newbie. I wouldn't miss this for the world."

I roll my eyes and nod. Yep. Figures.

Ok, here goes. My legs feel like lead - wobbly lead - as I slowly make my way over to the two officers. They are laughing and talking like old friends. Their casual postures don't do anything to alleviate my own anxiety. I'm breathing heavier than I should be. Finally one of the officers notices me standing there and they stop talking and look at me.

"Uh, good morning officers...uh, I was told you were looking for me."

* * *

**Author's Note: I feel like this chapter was too short and uneventful. With the holidays and everything I had very little time to work on it and I just wanted to submit what I had. I think I'll do a Dr. Cox POV next - or at least his POV for part of the next chapter. I hope everyone had safe and pleasant holidays. Welcome to 2007!**


	10. Chapter 9: My Brush With The Law

**Disclaimer: I don't own tv shows, are you kidding?!**

**Dr. Cox's POV **

**

* * *

**

Another day in this God forsaken hell hole. I really, really don't want to be here today. Truth of the matter is though, I'd rather be here than at home. I love Jordan, (if you believe that I am capable of that emotion) but we do so much better when we see each other in small spurts. I love my son, but since he is a tiny human that I can not begin to comprehend...pretty much the same goes for him. Here at the hospital I am: the best, the smartest, the fastest, the most feared, the king of the hill. Here I can pretty much get away with anything and still go home at the end of the day able to respect myself. Not everyone can say that and really mean it. I get to saves lives for a living. Not a bad gig if you really think about it.

On the other hand...I have to work with a bunch of sniveling, whiney, incompetent, evil bastards. Since I am here more than I am at home, that doesn't always put me in the best of moods. Of course, I could probably count on one hand the number of days in my adult life that I have been in a good mood, but hey. Who's counting anyway?

"Awwww...you got flowers? Keith, JD got flowers!"

Now, see there. It's Barbie clapping her freakishly cold hands because someone got flowers. Susan got flowers. I roll my eyes and stuff my hands in my pockets, casually strolling over. Actually, Barbie isn't being completely moronic. It is quite noteworthy that Newbie had flowers sent to him here. I am the slightest bit curious who they're from. Not that I would ever admit that. So, instead I think I'll just pretend that I have found yet another opportunity to emasculate the kid. Oh, who am I kidding...I _have _found another opportunity to emasculate the kid. I don't need to pretend.

"Oh, Bridget - did your mommy send you flowers? Did someone take a boom-boom in the potty for the first time?"

I'm smiling a fake giddy smile. Well, partially fake. I do get a little giddy at the thought of a fresh humiliation. Here comes the part where he gives me that look. Now, which one will it be? The one that says, "Yeah, I get it. I'm a little girl. Could you hurry up and finish your dehumanizing speech already?" Or the wide-eyed innocent look that tells me he's still surprised after all these years at the way I treat him.

Ok. Or maybe he won't really react at all. Maybe he'll just sort of turn away a little and open the card with his head down and...shaky hands? Oh give me a break. He can't be that thrown off by the flowers can he? I mean...shaking in anticipation? That's just supposed to be an expression. Someone should really tell him that. Normally, I would be that person, but something tells me to keep my mouth shut about the shaking. I don't plan on thinking about it too much, but I have the unsettling suspicion that he's not actually shaking in anticipation. That doesn't leave many possibilities as to why. Most of them aren't too good, either.

That's why I'm not going to say anything. I can rip people a new one all day long, but when it comes to the _real _issues…I'd much rather pretend I didn't notice. It's like when I used to find my mom crying at the kitchen table when I would sneak down to get myself something to drink in the middle of the night. I would tip toe out of the room so I wouldn't have to deal with it. Give me someone with severe liver disease and I know what to do, but actual human emotions?

Newbie is reading the card. He doesn't seem to want anyone else to read it. He's been a lot more secretive than usual lately. It's unnerving. Before this alien took over the kid's body he could never keep anything to himself. If he had gotten flowers before he would probably announce it over the intercom and make copies of the card to post all over the hospital. Now he's hunched over it so no one else can see it, and he just did this weird laugh thing that sounds like he's really about to cry. If he _even_ starts crying, I'm out of here. I can't handle tears.

Ok. Yep. He's definitely shaking. Maybe he just skipped breakfast and had too much caffeine on an empty stomach. It's not a bad theory. The kid hasn't been eating as much lately, and he has been hitting the caffeine pretty hard.

"Well? Who's it from?"

Good question Barbie. I cross my arms and wait with everyone else for the answer. While Newbie takes his sweet time answering I glance around. Great. I am standing here with Barbie and her Ken doll, waiting to find out who sent our little Princess flowers? Have I gone mad?! Since when do I give a rip?

"It's a thank you bouquet..."

That was vague.

"Ohhh...from a patient?"

Judging by Susan's mumbled, "Well, sort of." I'd say Elliot's guess wasn't exactly on target. It seems pretty obvious, though, that whoever they were from, he doesn't feel much like sharing with the rest of the class. There's that odd secrecy again. Where is this coming from? I know I usually go out of my way to avoid finding out personal information about Newbie...or anyone else. Really, I should be thanking the Lord that I don't have to hear about the damn flowers.

To tell you the truth, I've never _had_ to go prying into the kid's life. He always follows me around, even when I'm yelling at him and practically running away, and chats my ear off about the littlest damn thing. Drives me freaking crazy.

Never thought I'd miss it. I've always thought I would be as close to heaven as possible if everyone would just stay away from me and let me just do my job and mind my own business. Now I'm not quite sure. For one thing, I actually derive some pleasure out of yelling at these people. If no one ever gave me a reason to yell at them I just might go insane. Another reason, believe it or not, is I have become aware of the infuriating fact that I need people. I need to have people in my life to talk to, who need me, like me, respect me. From time to time, even I need some advice or a listening ear. One of the most constant people in my life these past 5 years has been Newbie. As much as he drives me crazy, I need that.

Ok, Barbie is starting to whine about not getting flowers. That's my cue. I may have come to the conclusion that I do in fact need some form of human contact in my life, but that doesn't mean I have to listen to Barbie whine about how unfair it is that Priscilla got flowers instead of her. I snarl at the girl and turn to walk away. At least her whine-fest isn't affecting Priscilla. Sometimes I truly envy his ability to let things roll off his shoulders. It would make my life a lot less stressful. There may have been a contradiction in there somewhere.

I catch him touching the flowers before I walk away. I have to say he looks less than ecstatic about his special delivery. I shake my head and force myself to stop watching him. He keeps getting this creepy far away look in his eye. Now, I know it's Newbie I'm talking about and he is forever taking these little trips into his vapid and child-like mind, but this is different. If he were having one of his day dreams he would be tilting his head to the side with his mouth pursed in thought.

Whoa - hold the boat. What am I doing?! I might be ill. It can't be healthy to be thinking about this as much as I have been. Maybe the world is about to end. I'm actually wondering about someone else's life. A lot. Ug.

I think I'm going to check out the lobby. You can usually tell what kind of day it's going to be based on what kind of people are hanging around the lobby. Ooook. What do we have here...expectant mother, bum, guy with a nail through his hand, snotty nosed kid, a couple of police officers...

Police officers? Is our favorite con artist/drug addict back? I don't see him handcuffed to a chair anywhere. I wonder what these two clowns want.

"Morning officers. What can I do for you?"

I hope Bob-o did something horrible and is getting slammed for it. Oh, that would just make my decade.

"Yes, we're looking for a Doctor..." The man looked down at the envelope in his hand, "Dorian. Dr. John Dorian."

Whoa! I did _not _see that coming! Newbie may be klutzy and moronic, but I can't see him as a criminal. I wonder if this has anything to do with why he's been acting so strangely lately. What the hell did that damn kid get himself into now?

"He's not in any trouble or anything. We'd just like to speak with him."

The other officer must have read the huge question mark on my forehead. Good for him.

"And give him this."

The first officer, officer...Price (according to his name tag) waves the envelope in the air. It looks too small to be something hugely significant. I wonder what it is. Didn't Newbie say something about losing his cell phone and pager or something? I can't imagine two policemen would take the time to hand deliver that. Something's not adding up.

"I'll let him know you're here."

I pull out my pager as I walk away. He's probably still ogling those damned flowers with that idiot look on his face. He's not answering his page. I make it to the Nurse's Station. His flowers are still there, looking far too cheery for this place - but no Newbie.

"Barbie, where did Mable skip off to?"

She stops her animated (and no doubt pointless) conversation with "Ken" and looks at me with her head cocked and her mouth hanging open. Ok, people don't understand why I've never cared for Barbie - this is why. Somewhere my rational mind understands that to have come this far in her career she can't be completely brainless. But, God help me, when she gets that vacant look on her face I just want to hit something…hard!

"He was just here. Keith, did you see where JD went?"

Keith gives Barbie a run for her money with his own doofy look. You know what...it looks far more infuriating on him. God these people make me homicidal.

"Oook. Thank you. I'll be sure to write to Matel and let them know their experiment to construct life-size Barbie and Ken dolls was a tremendous success. I just can't figure out how you got out of the plastic. Huh. I think I'll go rent the movie Mannequin..."

I trail off as I walk away. No doubt they're staring after me with matching "I was born without a brain" expressions. I page Newbie again. Give me a break. It's only been a few minutes. How far could he have gone?

"Hey - Janitor. Have you seen Martha?"

"Who?"

"Newbie."

"Scooter?"

"Sure."

"No."

"Ok."

I'm glad we had this time together.

Damn you, Newbie. Where the hell are you? I haul out my pager and page him again. Still nothing. However...is that beeping? I page him again. Yep. Beeping. It seems to be coming from the...supply closet? What in God's name...?

I sigh and fling open the door. I expect him to be…I don't know…making out with someone, making a private phone call..._something_. I expect him to yelp and jump to attention when I fling open the door and then make some lame excuse about why he hasn't answered any of my pages. But he doesn't do any of those things. Instead he's just standing there staring at the floor. I can't really see his face, but considering he didn't so much as twitch when the door opened, he's either asleep or he's off to Neverland. Since he's standing up, I'm going with the Neverland theory. I bet he has that far away look on his face again.

Ok, I've been standing here for at least 10 seconds, which is actually quite a long time for someone to be standing this close without the other person realizing it. For some reason this pisses me off...well, pretty much everything pisses me off. I don't have all damn day to stand around waiting for Knuckle-head to snap out of it. Besides, if he's not in trouble with the police _now_, they probably won't be too impressed if he keeps them waiting forever. Oh who am I kidding, I just want to know what's going on!

I sigh again and grab him by the arm, a little too roughly I'm guessing, and I drag him out of the room. He lets out a girlie yelp which I'm going to go ahead and assume is from surprise and not pain.

"Sheila, just what do you think you're doing? I paged you four times!"

"Four? I thought it was only twice..."

The kid even has a far away tone to his voice to go with the look! Good God. He's staring off at the door to the closet now, oh, and now he's looking at his pager. Oh for crying out loud, this is taking way too damn long. So, I snap my fingers in front of his face. I think I should change my nickname for him to Skipper since he is acting more like Barbie and Ken. He is actually scratching his head in confusion. And he seems to be actively avoiding any sort of eye contact.

"S-sorry, what...what, uh...did you need something?"

Do I need something? Is he kidding?! He must be kidding.

"Oh, Betty. Betty - need something? From you?" I'm laughing now, "That's just...that's got to be one of the best jokes you have ever made. You know, a few more of those hum dingers and you could really take your little show on the road. I'm telling you, I think you really have a future here. I know you don't want to leave the comfort of your mother's womb and all just yet, but you've got to do it sometime, right? And what time like the present?"

I throw my arm around the boy and start heading toward the lobby. I am bound and determined to get him to do something "Newbie-like" since I can't stand this new guy he's turned into. Maybe one of my little speeches will snap him out of this...whatever it is.

"Bridget, what you do in your free time is none of my business and so help me I _really_ don't want to know why you were in the closet staring at the floor instead of answering my pages or - God forbid - _working_. But, what can I say - girls will be girls."

I pat him on the shoulder then fling my arm off, shooting him one of my best "you are nothing to me" looks. That ought to get some sort of reaction out of him. Now, I glare and wait for him to give in and spill his guts like he always does.

Finally, eye contact! Oh shit. Are those...tear tracks? Hold on - red, puffy eyes - check - flushed cheeks - check - eyelashes still clumped together - check. Damn it. He's been crying. That's what he was doing in the supply closet. That's why he's been avoiding looking at me directly.

Maybe I should ask him what's wrong. Maybe I should...nonononono! What the hell am I thinking? I should do what I always do when faced with crying people - nothing. Well, that's not true. I am quite good at finding their weakness, their most vulnerable spot, and twisting it to oblivion. But this time, I'm just going to go ahead and slip some kind of irritated Cox expression on my face and not let on that I've seen anything. Maybe he has allergies or a cold or something.

"Um...why did you page me?"

Oh, yeah. And here I almost forgot about why I dragged him down here. I nod toward the officers behind him.

"Those men are here to see you."

I watch him turn to look at them. He looks nervous...scared.

"Me? Are you sure? Did they say why?"

Now I'm actually nervous and scared _for _him, which makes me mad that I'm having sympathetic feelings. I will forever maintain that I therefore had no choice but to say in scathing tones:

"I'm not your secretary, Newbie."

He's shaking again. Damn him. Why is this getting to me so much? It doesn't make sense! This is not me. Ok, so it is me. But damn it - I _hate _me!

"I hope whatever you did was worth it."

Yep - time to look amused at his fear and trepidation. Make fun of it...maybe then it won't be anything serious.

"Uh, are you really just going to stand there while I go talk to them?"

"Oh, Newbie. I wouldn't miss this for the world."

Ok, good. I think I've made him irritated. Irritation I can handle. Crying and shaking? That would be a resounding NO!

I watch him walk slowly up to the policemen like he's walking toward his executioner. A part of me wants to walk up there with him, stand there like his body guard. I actually want to protect him. Of course, I also just want to know what the hell they want with Newbie. Good God. I hope no one has died. The last time that happened I psyched myself up to give the kid a hug and ended up punching him in the face instead. Either way, I don't see how this can be good.

* * *

**JD's POV**

"Uh, good morning officers...uh, I was told you were looking for me."

"Doctor Dorian?"

Oh God oh God oh God...that's me. It's not a mistake, they _are_ looking for me.

"Y-yes?"

"Officer Price." The man held his hand out for me to shake. I watched my shaky hand reach out and take his. He had a quick, but firm handshake.

"Officer Daniels." The man with Officer Price shook my hand as well. Is that normal? Do cops generally give out hand shakes like this? I don't know how this works.

"Doctor Dorian-"

"JD. Sorry, you can call me JD."

"Ok."

Officer Price clears his throat. I can hear Dr. Cox's pager go off behind me.

"JD,"

The officer continues as I catch Dr. Cox's white coat out of the corner of my eye heading off quickly down the hallway. I wonder if a patient is coding or something.

"I understand that a few weeks ago you were involved in a hostage situation in Palmyra."

I swallow and shift positions. My ears start to ring and I can feel my face flush.

"That's right."

"I've had a chance to look over the statement you provided. Thank you for that by the way, it was very helpful."

I nod and wait for what is coming next. I notice Officer Price has an envelope in his hand with my name on it. I scratch my cheek and try not to stare at it.

"Doctor Do-sorry, JD, the reason why we came to see you in person was to...well, first of all, we came to give you this."

Officer Price hands over the envelope to me. I don't know if I'm supposed to open it or not, so I just hold it in my hand and stare at my name. It looks like my dad's handwriting.

"You'll find your..." Officer Daniels pulls out a piece of paper and reads off of it, "your cell phone, pager, and wallet."

I hear myself laugh. That's great - now that I've replaced basically everything. Well, except for my cell phone. I guess it's nice to have it all back, but it just seems like a waste now.

"Oh, wow. Thanks. H-how did-"

"We received an anonymous call that there was an abandoned car with the belongings that were stolen from those involved in the hostage situation inside."

I wish he would stop calling it that. It sounds so...impersonal. It doesn't sound like what I experienced.

"The car happened to be the car you had rented and reported as stolen by the suspect."

"The suspect? Does that mean you know who it was?"

The two officers exchange glances.

"JD, is there a place where we can talk...privately."

"Um...sure. Just one moment."

I turn and slowly walk to the receptionist's desk. My heart is beating so hard I swear it's going to fly out of my chest. They want to talk privately!

The receptionist smiles at me.

"Can I help you, Doctor?"

"Hi. Yes. Is there an empty room where we can talk?" I motion to the policemen standing behind me. She glances at them, looks curious, then starts typing away on her computer.

"Oook. It looks like Conference Room 3 is available. Would that be ok?"

I guess. I don't see why it matters.

"Yeah, that should work. Thanks. Is that the one with the snoopy border on the walls?"

She smiles super sweetly at me, "That's the one!"

"Ok. Thank you."

As I lead the officers down the hall to the conference room, I can't focus on anything else around me but my thoughts. I don't even know who I've passed or if anyone has said anything to me. If I had been thinking about it, I would be telling everyone I passed that I'm not under arrest and had done nothing wrong. Instead I must look like I belong in shackles by the expression on my face and the way my head is angled down. By the time Officer Daniels closes the door behind him I'm fairly certain I'm going to pass out any second.

"Have a seat, JD."

A seat? No no no no! Not good! I don't want to sit!

I sit down anyway and swallow again. I have horrible cotton mouth. What I wouldn't give for a tall glass of water.

Officer Price clears his throat and begins. Maybe it's a good thing I don't have water. I might pee my pants.

"JD, we believe the anonymous caller and the suspect were the same person. We received a similar anonymous call yesterday morning giving us a lead where the suspect would be located at 5:00 this morning."

Officer Daniels pulls a chair up next to mine and leans in close.

"We followed the lead and found the suspect in a hotel room in Palmyra. He had shot himself in the head."

He pauses, I guess to let me take the news in. But, how do you take something like that in? What is my reaction supposed to be? Am I supposed to be happy? Because I am not happy. I am frozen. Shocked. I just sit there while my ears start ringing again.

"His name was John Emerson Andrews. He was 25 years old. He left a note, apologizing for the pain he had caused that day."

Another pause. I put my head in my hands. My head is pounding. He left a note? A suicide note?

"If you would like a copy-"

"No!" Oops, I didn't mean to yell that. I glance up at the officers. I've startled them. "No." I say softer now, "No, that's ok."

They nod and look concerned. I doubt it's real concern.

"Ok. That's fine."

Officer Price clears his throat and stands up, Officer Daniels follows his lead. I wonder if they are partners. I wonder how long they've worked together. Suddenly I am struck by the similarities between the news they just had to give me and the bad news I have to give my patients. I never really thought of that before. This must be so awkward for them. But they've probably had to do this sort of thing a hundred times before. They must have a routine by now.

I feel a hand land on my shoulder. "Doctor Dorian, it was a pleasure meeting you. Here is my card. Please, don't hesitate to call either myself or Officer Daniels with any questions or concerns you might have. You should be receiving some paperwork shortly for you to sign and send back. It's basically just to show that we did in fact have this conversation with you. If you wish to file charges against the family of Mr. Andrews, let us know."

"Oh, no. No, that won't be necessary."

Why the hell would I do that? They had nothing to do with this. Besides...they just lost someone in their family. As if they need to deal with some jackass suing them along with the knowledge that their brother or son held up a store and then shot himself in the head after returning the belongings he stole. Who would do that?

Officer Price sets his card down in front of me and shakes my hand. I numbly shake it back before Officer Daniels' hand replaces Officer Price's and I numbly shake his as well. I must have mumbled some sort of "thank you" or "goodbye" but I can't think straight. I can't believe what I just heard. I'm practically hyperventilating, I'm breathing so hard. I grab my head and close my eyes. My head hurts so bad I can barely stand it.

This is awful! It wasn't supposed to end this way! I would have preferred that he had never been caught - if he was just a nameless face out there somewhere, never to be seen or heard from again. Or even if he just turned himself in! But, then again - who knows how long he would be in prison if that happened. What would his life be like there? Would he ever recover from that?

He'll never recover from this, that's for sure. He's dead. I'll never be able to visit him in prison to ask him why he did it. I'll never be able to apologize to him for not listening to him when he told me not to move. I'll never be able to tell him I wouldn't press charges against him, anyway. I don't see the point. It wouldn't change anything. By the time it was over the guy had been a complete mess as it was. I guess I should have seen this coming. He really didn't seem like the type whose conscience would let him get away with this.

I feel like I can't breathe. I need to sneak outside and get some fresh air. I feel nauseous. How the hell am I supposed to function today? I push my chair back and blindly stumble out of the room and down the hall to the nearest exit.

The air hits my face and I feel marginally better. I'm still breathing like I've just run a marathon, but hey. I don't really know what to do with myself now that I'm out here. I don't think I've ever used this exit before. It's just an ugly cement platform with metal railings with peeling turquoise paint. I grab onto the railing with both hands. I feel all this pent up adrenaline course through my arms into my hands and I find myself practically ringing the metal bar like a rag. My jaw is clenched tightly and I'm breathing in and out through my nose.

"FRRRIIIICCCKKKK!"

Oh Good God. That was me! I just yelled that at the top of my lungs! I feel...better...actually.

"Bad day?"

"AH!"

I jump half a mile and spin around. There's a woman standing there, leaning against the wall. I don't recognize her, but she's wearing scrubs so I guess she works here. She's smirking at me. I guess that must have looked pretty comical. She has one arm crossed in front of her, loosely holding a box of Marlboros. Her elbow is resting on the arm across her middle and a cigarette is dangling from between her fingers. She pushes off the wall while exhaling a thin line of smoke, making sure to blow it away from me.

"Sorry. I didn't know anyone else was out here."

"That's ok. I'm the only one who uses this exit. You look like you could use one of these."

She holds out her cigarettes to me.

"Oh, no thanks. I don't smoke."

She shrugs and goes back to leaning against the wall.

"Did you kill someone or something?"

"What?"

"You're a doctor, right?"

"Yeah..."

I'm not really in the mood for conversation. I find myself mesmerized by the way she inhales and exhales the smoke. She looks like she could be a couple of years younger than me. She's pretty, but there's something about her face that looks older than it should. Maybe it was all the cigarettes. Maybe she's just seen way too much in her life. Her eyes look like they're full of stories.

"Are you sure you don't want one?"

"Huh?"

She laughs through her nose.

"You keep staring at my cigarette."

My eyes travel down to the pack in her hand. I have never had a desire to smoke. Especially not after the lungs I've seen these past 5 years, damaged and blackened from the smoke. Right now though, in this moment, it just seems like the thing to do.

"Sure. I'll take one."

She laughs through her nose again and holds the pack out to me. I open it up, there is only one left. The lighter is in the box.

"Oh...there's only one left. Are you sure-"

"I have a whole carton in my car, don't worry."

Wow. A carton. How many cigarettes is that? I wonder how many she smokes a day.

"Thanks."

I pull the last one out and light it up. It takes me a few tries. I wish I didn't look like such an amateur. I know it's stupid, but I don't want it to be obvious that I've never done this before. I awkwardly hand her lighter back and throw the empty box in the trash can next to me. Of course, I automatically start coughing with the first drag I take. My eyes are watering. I feel like an idiot.

"Smooth." I cough, trying to put on a cool, tough guy face. What the hell am I doing? I'm coughing up my lungs and I still think I'm going to fool her into thinking I'm the kind of guy who smokes a pack and a half a day and swigs Jack Daniels on my lunch breaks?!

She smirks, but doesn't call my bluff.

"Well, Doctor..." she squints at my name tag, "Dorian, I hope your day doesn't suck as hard as you're sucking that cigarette."

I try to suppress another coughing fit after another unsuccessful drag. Of course, it doesn't work and the moment I try to say anything back to her I'm coughing and hacking again.

"Yeah, thanks.." cough, "Uh..." cough.

"Tess."

"Thanks, Tess. Me too." Cough.

She smirks and waves as she goes back inside. I don't want to waste the cigarette she gave me, so I proceed to choke and cough my way through the rest of the cancer stick. By the time I'm done I feel like I just read through Moby Dick while winding through the back roads of the Appalachian Mountains in a bus. I think I'm going to be sick. That probably wasn't the best idea I ever had. The funny thing is, even though I'm pretty sure my face is now a sickly shade of green, I feel better. My mind isn't racing anymore. My head...well, my head is still pounding... but at least I don't feel so out of control.

I think I might have a fighting chance of making it through the day. Only I think I'm going to puke. Now if I could just make it to a bathroom in time to throw up the coffee I had for breakfast, and try to wash the smoke smell off my hands...


	11. Chapter 10: My New Habit

**Disclaimer: I own nothing**

**JD's POV**

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**The Next Day... **

Around here it's easy to get so busy you miss the smaller details. When we're all running around from patient to patient and trying to figure out why a 23 year old is showing signs of significant osteoarthritis while following Kelso's orders to show the 85 year old board member around the hospital without losing him, breaking his hip, or making the hospital look bad...you just start to run on assumptions. I assumed that every time I saw Dr. Kelso and I was not with his precious board member I was about to get my ass chewed. So I ran off to find the old geezer before Kelso had a chance to say anything. Carla assumed that when I told her that I didn't have time to check on Mrs. Sampson it meant I was telling her that she had to do it. She, of course got pissed and thought I was just being a bastard Doctor by pulling my weight with the overworked and under appreciated nursing staff. Elliot assumed that I left my flowers on the desk at the nurse's station to rub it in her face that I got flowers and she didn't. No one assumed that when I came back into the hospital looking green, coughing, and smelling like smoke - that I had actually been smoking. An understandable assumption.

It makes sense. Everyone knows how I feel about smoking. They've all seen me lecture my patients and fellow co-workers. They've heard me rant and rave about the butts littering the streets. They've seen me choke on the faintest wisp of cigarette smoke blowing across my path. Really, I have never given anyone any reason what so ever to come to the conclusion that I tried smoking. It's almost like I had been planning this my entire life. I had carefully constructed this image of myself just so that one day I could successfully sneak a cigarette without anyone suspecting that I had done it. The perfect, fail-save plan. I wish I had been in on it.

I couldn't decide what made me more angry: the fact that no one bothered to wonder why I looked like I had ridden the Zipper at the fair 20 times in a row, suddenly developed a nasty, yet temporary cough - all the while smelling of marlboros; myself for even having the stinking, smoldering, cancer stick just because I had a bad day...er...month; my body for not throwing up to get rid of what felt like the worst motion sickness ever; or once again, myself - for actually feeling a little smug, knowing that I had just done probably one of the most uncharacteristic things of my life without anyone finding out about it. I guess it doesn't matter. I guess in the end, I'm just angry...and that's not the best attitude to have working in a hospital. Attitude is one of the all time key ingredients to how a person heals. A bad, angry attitude won't help anyone. And here I am, spreading it around. I may as well just be running around with a gun shooting everyone.

I grip the railing, causing my knuckles to turn white. Now why would I even come up with that? Why would my brain conjure up an image of me calming gunning patients down? I squeeze my eyes shut against the image, only since it's in my mind anyway, it's still there. I try shaking my head...still there. What the hell?!

"WHAT THE HELL?!"

oops. I think that was out loud. Damn. I have to stop doing that.

"Wow. Two bad days in a row, huh? Or were you just hoping to bum another cigarette?"

"GAAH!"

I jump and spin around.

"Oh. Tess. Hello."

Act calm, act natural. Pretend you didn't just shriek like a total girl after accidentally yelling "what the hell!". What is wrong with me lately?

She smirks and shakes her head at me before wordlessly lighting up a cigarette, and then holding the pack out for me.

I'm only mildly surprised when I take it from her without hesitation. I should be horrified. I should be disgusted. I probably will be later. For now, though, it seems like the thing to do. It seems comfortable to have something in common with the person sharing my air space. I don't think I've felt that since...well, since the hold up, I guess. I'm quite sure that if I think about it hard enough I'll realize that I've spent most of my life feeling like I had nothing in common with those around me. Even in med school I felt like an oddball. That was the only time in my life when I was surrounded by people my age, studying the same thing, going through the same crap - when I should have felt the most connected.

She leans against the wall. I lean against the railing. This time I don't cough nearly as much, maybe I'm also not inhaling quite as deeply as I was that first time. I glance over at Tess. She is one of those people who look completely at ease no matter what. She just seems...not confident exactly, but...just really comfortable in her own skin. I wish I knew what that was like. I know people have told me (by people I mostly mean Turk) that they like the fact that I am who I am no matter what people think or say. That I'm a goofy, nerdy, spaz no matter what looks people give me. I suppose that's true enough, but it's not the same to just be who you are all the time because you simply can't help it. It would be better to be who you are all the time because you are totally at ease with yourself. I've never been at ease with myself. I just don't know how to be anyone else!

"Hey."

Tess is looking at me with a funny look on her face. Great. I was probably staring at her. Now she's going to be all creeped out and there will be yet another person I'll feel weird around.

"Hey."

Witty reply. Way to go.

"What are you thinking about?"

She smirks and laughs lightly when I give that "deer caught in the headlights" look.

"Don't worry. I promise I won't be creeped out. I've pretty much seen and heard it all."

"Oh." I allow myself to smile, but my laugh is still nervous. I meet her eyes again. I know she wasn't kidding.

Her hair is a sort of a light brown/strawberry blonde color. Her skin is what you would expect with hair like that - fair with a spattering of freckles. Her eyes are a greenish blue - and big and round. Maybe she just looks like she could be a little younger than me because of her complexion. There is something about fair-haired and fair skinned girls that always makes them look young and innocent. Then there are those eyes - big round eyes that should look youthful and full of hope. Everything else about her makes her look...fresh. But, her eyes betray her. They tell a different story. I completely believe her without any skepticism that she has truly seen and heard it all.

"So?"

"What?"

"What are you thinking about?"

Oh, good grief - I was doing it again. I'm going to scare her away if I'm not careful...well, maybe not _scare __her _since she doesn't scare easily, but...

"Oh...nothing really...I don't know..."

I realize I sound like an idiot, but honestly...I can't remember what I was thinking the moment she asked me that question. I think I was admiring her relaxed way of being. I'm not sure how to go about explaining that to her.

Tess smirks at me again and pushes off the wall and strides over to lean against the railing next to me. Only she's facing out into the parking lot, and I'm still facing the wall. This feels awkward. I look down at her for a few seconds.

"I heard a rumor about you yesterday."

Oh God.

I groan and turn around so we're facing the same direction, and take another drag. I choke a little. I glance down at the box in her hand. Ah. She has marlboro lights today.

"Hey, you switched." Honestly, I didn't mean to change the subject…it just sort of slipped out.

She looks up at me and raises an eyebrow. I motion to the cigarette box.

"Yesterday you had reds, today you have lights."

She laughs through her nose. "For a non-smoker you seem to know a little about brands."

I smile. It's stupid, but I feel a little proud that I've impressed her with my vast knowledge of tobacco products.

She clears her throat. "Nice observation, Dr. Dorian."

"JD."

She smirks. "I know."

"Ah."

Tess twirls around and leans back on the railing with her elbows. Great, now we're facing opposite directions again. I pause, not knowing if I should turn around again or stay where I am. Would I seem like a copycat if I turn around again?

"It's ok, you can turn around if you want."

I laugh and turn around.

"Thank you."

She raises an eyebrow at me again. "For giving you permission to turn around?"

"Nooo. For getting marlboro lights. I'm not coughing as much. Did you notice?"

I smile proudly at my new friend.

"What makes you think I bought these for you?"

"Yesterday you said you had a whole carton left in your car."

Tess rolled her eyes and smiled down at the ground. Was that flirting? Is she flirting with me?

"I did notice." Pause. "And you're welcome." Pause. "JD."

I smile and take another drag. We stand there in companionable silence, finishing our cigarettes. Until my pager goes off, that is. I look at it. Of course it's Dr. Cox. I have a half an hour left on my lunch break and I haven't even eaten yet. What the hell is his problem? I let out a frustrated growl and put my cigarette out in the little "butt can". I turn and give Tess an apologetic smile.

"Duty calls."

She nods and waves, staying where she is.

"Thanks for the smoke."

I wave and duck back into the hospital. I hope my "thanks for the smoke" sounded natural and casual...like I've been saying it all my life. I shake my head and smile at myself. So now all of a sudden I want to be in the smoking crowd? Since when do I want to be able to say things in "smoker-speak"? Ah well. The important thing is I'm in a better mood than I've been all day.

"Hey there Scooter."

Oh no! The janitor!

I stop and turn around slowly to face him.

"Hey janitor."

"I heard the fuzz were here for you yesterday."

"The fuzz?"

"You know, the 5-0."

"5-0...what?"

The janitor rolls and eyes and sighs dramatically.

"The cops!"

"Ooohhhh. Yeah. So?"

"Nothing. Just...telling you what I heard."

He smiles that creepy smile that looks semi-sweet but you know it's just masking the evil lurking beneath. Then he pats me on the shoulder and walks off...whistling.

What is that man up to now? Someone kill me.

My pager beeps again. It's Dr. Cox, again. Apparently he wants to take me up on my request that someone kill me considering his pager message reads, "Newbie! If you don't get your flabby ass over here right now I swear to God I will kill you!". I roll my eyes and pick up my pace. He's so predictable. He's so predictable he doesn't even have to tell me where it is I'm supposed to be getting my flabby ass to. I consider stopping by the bathroom to wash my hands, maybe find some scented lotion to try to cover up the smell of smoke.

I think of Tess, leaning against the railing. Suddenly I remember we never really finished our conversation. She said she heard a rumor about me. I pause in the middle of the hallway.

"Ooof. Ooopps - sorry, JD!"

Apparently Elliot had been walking behind me and hadn't realized I had stopped. I turn around as best I can with her still leaning on me and I grab her elbows to steady her.

"Hey, Elliot. You in a hurry?"

Elliot blows her hair out of her face and looks off distractedly down the hallway.

"Well, sort of. I'm meeting Keith for lunch. I'm late. As usual."

"Ah...ok. Well, um...carry on then."

I let go of her elbows and wave my arm in front of me, "valiant knight-style".

Elliot smiles at me and does a little curtsey.

"Why thank you, kind sir."

I nod and bow slightly, "My lady."

Elliot laugh-snorts which kind of...breaks the weird little renaissance moment we had going on there, and trots off down the hallway. She bangs into a few more people along the way, apologizing to each one. I watch her go. She's still so beautiful, even when she's being a total klutz. Gotta love her.

I start moving again when I get another page from my beloved mentor. I growl at it and then with a burst of ballsy inspiration, I type back - "What do you want? I'm on my lunch break!" I keep walking while I type, a satisfied grin on my face. Until I walk directly into Dr. Cox's chest. Terrific.

"Oh...hey...didn't see you there, Perry."

Suddenly I don't feel quite so ballsy, and now that I see the look on his face I instantly regret my decision to go with "Perry" instead of "Dr. Cox". Crap. He glares at me. I swallow and try to smile.

"Did you get my little message there on the...errr..." I laugh nervously and vaguely motion to the pager that's still in my hand. "Little joke there...with the...I thought it would be...pretty funny..." I sound like a total idiot, but I can't seem to stop floundering or laughing nervously.

Dr. Cox just stares at me until the smile drops off my face and I start shifting uncomfortably in place. I rub the back of my neck. It's so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Only instead you hear my stomach growling embarrassingly. I fold my arms across my middle and press them into my stomach. I don't know why exactly, but for some reason I always think that if I press down on my stomach it will muffle the sound or something. It never works.

"You're on your lunch break?"

My head jerks up to look at Dr. Cox. I had almost forgotten what I was doing here while I was standing in the hallway wishing my stomach would keep quiet.

"Yeah." I practically whisper.

Dr. Cox looks a little less angry. He rolls his eyes as though the very idea that he's not quite as mad at me anymore ticks him off.

"You haven't eaten yet I take it."

"Um...no...I haven't exactly gotten around to that yet."

I was too busy smoking and trying to shake off the image of me with a gun in my hand. Oh, great. Now the image is back.

Dr. Cox growls and throws his arms up in the air.

"Never mind, Cassandra. I'll take care of it. Wouldn't want our little wilting flower to faint from exhaustion and lack of food, now would we?"

"No, I guess not."

Why am I answering him?

He sneers at me and abruptly turns and starts walking away, his white lab coat billowing out dramatically behind him.

"Just hurry up and eat something. Come find me when you're done."

"Thanks!" I call weakly after him. I can see him shaking his head and resting his hands on top of his head as he disappears down the hallway. I don't get him sometimes.

"Dr. Dorian."

"Dr. Kelso. How are you, sir?"

Please stomach, don't growl, don't growl.

"Rumor has it you received a package yesterday. Hand delivered by the men in blue."

What's with everyone using little euphemisms for the police lately?

"Yeaaah..." I say slowly, suspiciously. Where is this going?

"I understand that inside that package was your lost pager-"

"Stolen."

"Excuse me?"

"Stolen...pager...sir."

Dr. Kelso smiles, "Oh, pardon me – your _stolen _pager." The smile drops and is replaced by his usual scowl. "Is this correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"Ah, good. Then if you would be so kind as to hand over the new one I gave you…I have a hospital to run, and these puppies don't come cheap. How fair would it be to have one doctor going around with 2 pagers, while our new, and brighter, staff goes without, hm?"

I get it, geeze.

"Actually, sir.." I look down at the pager in my hand. "Could I give you my old one instead? This one doesn't run the batteries down as quickly and it has this neat little -"

"How about you give me the new pager and stop whining about it." Dr. Kelso snatched the pager from my hand and stalks off.

"Or...yeah...you could just take it from me. That also works."

I sigh and take a detour down to my locker instead of the cafeteria. I just hope I left that package there and didn't take it back to the apartment. Now I'm feeling tired again. My stomach's still growling and my lunch break is almost over now. I don't know if I'll have enough time to eat. The only thing I ate yesterday was a banana with peanut butter on it. That's because after having that cigarette, I thought the only that would make me feel better would be food. It did help, but at the same time my visit with Officer Price and Officer Daniels had completely taken away my appetite and I didn't eat anything else for the rest of the day. My appetite has been coming and going lately anyway. I actually have a desire to eat today. Figures that I probably won't have time to now that I actually feel like it.

I check my locker. The package is there. I haven't even opened it yet. I sit down on the bench and turn it over in my hand a couple of times. I'm not entirely sure why I'm hesitating to open this. It's just an envelope. It's just my things. It's no big deal.

"Good grief, you pansy. Just open it."

I roll my eyes and rip open the top. Shaking it upside down, the 3 items come tumbling out into my lap. I toss the envelope into the trashcan next to me. Ok. That was easy. No ticking time bomb or anything - just my old crappy pager, my cell-phone that I no longer have service for, and my wallet. I clip my pager onto my belt and throw my cell phone into my locker from where I'm sitting. I hear it ricochet off the metal walls of my locker noisily before coming to a rest somewhere in the small box.

I assume he took all my cash...oh wait...I wasn't carrying any cash. I wonder if he bothered taking any of my credit cards if he was just going to...

I close my eyes and drop my head into my hands. I really don't want to think about this right now. I might have time to shove a bagel into my face or something if I hurry. I don't have time to sit and picture that young man's face. Only I can put a name with the face now, thanks to my little visit yesterday morning. John Emerson Andrews .

I rub my face briskly and stand up. I chuck my wallet into my locker with a loud grunt. Of course, the stupid piece of leather has to hit the back of the locker and fly back out - spilling a good deal of its contents all over the floor. Damn it! Why didn't I just calmly place the damn thing in there instead of flinging it like that?!

I crouch down and start picking up the various credit cards, business cards, and random pieces of paper - shoving them unceremoniously back into my wallet. It doesn't really look like John took anything. It appears everything is still here. Huh. I snatch a folded up piece of lined paper with unfamiliar handwriting on it. What is this?

I carefully unfold it and scan it quickly. It looks like a letter, and it's addressed to me. How long has this been in here? I don't recognize this at all. There is a date on it...dated...4 days ago? What the hell? My eyes fly to the bottom of the page. My heart stops, I find myself sitting back down on the bench. It's signed John Andrews.

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**Author's note: This isn't where I was going to end this chapter. Actually the entire contents of this chapter bears no likeness at all to my original idea for this chapter. As usual, I got antsy about submitting something, so...here you go!**


	12. Chapter 11: My Faulty Filter

**Disclaimer: I own nothing**

**_JD's flashback in italics_ **

**JD's POV**

**

* * *

**

**That night...**

_"No! Stay back!"_

_"What are you doing, man? Just let him do it!"_

_"Shhhh."_

_I need to concentrate! Why doesn't everyone just be quiet? I don't know how long we've been here now or how close to the end of this ordeal we really are - but I sure as hell did not expect it to end this way. And if there is anything I can do about, it _won't _end this way._

_"Please, don't do this. This isn't what you want!"_

_I am currently pleading with the man that has held us hostage for what feels like weeks. I've watched him grow increasingly hysterical over the past, oh I don't know, several hours. He is now holding his gun to his own head. He's shaking uncontrollably and tears are endlessly streaming down his red, frightened face. He looks young. Maybe around my age. I don't think he imagined things would go this way when he first stepped foot in this store._

_"Just do it so we can all go home."_

_I fight the urge to glare at the woman to my left who just said that. I don't want to take my eyes off the man in front of me. I don't really know what I'm supposed to be thinking or feeling. I don't know what the right reaction is supposed to be. All I know is I'm scared and exhausted, and more than a little numb. I imagine the people left standing around me are experiencing similar sensations right about now, too. We've been going back and forth like this for a while now. A couple of us are trying to talk the man out of killing himself right here and now. Most people have remained relatively silent, and then there are a few people who have been making comments like the one that woman just made. It's all making my head spin._

_I don't know what to do. I'm not trained to handle crisis situations like this. My arms are getting tired. I've kept them outstretched for who knows how long. I don't know. You always see people doing that on tv - like they're approaching a wild animal. I slowly move towards him. I guess he does kind of resemble a wild animal. He lets out a tortured sounding sob and his gun shakes more. He's ready to break at any moment, and this could go either way – turning the gun on someone else, or blowing his own brain out._

_"What are you doing?! Don't come near me!"_

_He's wailing. He looks terrified. That's funny. I should be the one looking terrified. He's the one with the gun!_

_"I won't do anything. I just...please...put the gun away. You're panicking - this isn't what you want to do. There are other options here. Please!"_

_"How do you know what I want! You don't know!"_

_Oh shit. I freeze as the shaky gun is now trained on me. _

_"I-"_

_"Shut up!"_

_The gun is waving a little bit. I mentally take note of who is nearby. If he shoots that the way he's wobbling it, who knows where the bullet will go. He's already proved he's not the best shot in the world._

_My heart pounds loudly in my ears as he moves slowly towards me._

_"Who are you anyway? Why do you think you have all the answers? You've been telling me what to do this whole time! What are you playing at? What do you have up your sleeve? TELL ME!"_

_He's losing it. _

_"Nothing! I'm no one! I just came in here to get some gas and wash my hands, that's all. I didn't plan on this! None of us did! You're over stressed and you are threatening your own life. All I want is for all of us to get out of here safely. That's it!"_

_He's crying again. The gun is all over the place. I don't know if it's possible for my muscles to be any more tense than they are right this second._

_"You said there were other options?"_

_"What?"_

_"YOU SAID I HAD OTHER OPTIONS!"_

_Oh, so I did. _

_"Yeah...yeah, I did."_

_The man yells out in frustration before suddenly lunging at me. I flinch and try to step away but he grabs me around my shoulders and once again I feel the cold metal of the gun against my temple. I should be getting used to that right about now. I can feel him trembling._

_"Y-you have to t-tell me what those options are. If you're so g-good at figuring out what to do...tell me what I should do."_

_His voice is raspy and his breath keeps catching in his throat like he's shivering. His desperation is almost tangible. _

_"O-o-o-k" I'm stuttering, stalling really. What the hell am I supposed to tell this guy? I don't know anything! Why the hell did I have to go and say something as idiotic as "there are other options here" when I have no idea what those are!_

_"Ummm...no one has to get hurt. You don't have to get hurt."_

_The gun is pressed hard into my temple, it's too distracting, I can't think._

_"What other way out is there?!"_

_I flinch again and try not to jump too much. I don't want to accidentally jar his finger out of place. Wouldn't that be ironic - to die because of my own nerves? Ha._

_Way out way out way out...think!_

_"You could turn yourself in? Maybe they would go easy on you...you could explain how this was all a horrible mistake. That you never meant for any of this to happen. Maybe-"_

_The gun clicks. He must have cocked it, or whatever it is people do when they're preparing to fire. I think I taste vomit in my throat._

_"No."_

_He says that one word with a quiet forcefulness that makes my blood slow in my veins. It's a tone that says that was the absolute worst suggestion anyone could ever give. Leave it to me to make that mistake._

_"Ok, ok. So, that wasn't the best suggestion...just...don't...do anything."_

_He chokes on some more tears in my ear. I don't think he's going to be able to hold out much longer like this._

_"Maybe you could go out the back door? Maybe you could just...get away!"_

_I try to look at whoever it was who said that. It sounded like the Subway girl. I can't turn my head enough though. I can hear some people gasp and exclaim in objection to this suggestion. My captor however seems to relax a bit._

_"B-back door? Is there a back door?"_

_"Yeah, it's where we take the trash out. Over there."_

_I'm guessing she's pointing at something. _

_"Ok. Nobody move. If anyone follows me or tries anything...he's dead!"_

_He shakes me hard and jams the gun into my temple again. It looks like I'm not out of the woods yet. I swear my legs are going to give way any moment. He drags me along toward the back door. His arm has shifted so that it's no longer around my shoulders, but around my neck now. I can still breath, but the pressure is really uncomfortable. Combine that with the acid in my throat and I'm pretty sure I'm going to start gagging._

_I hear him open a door behind me and I'm being dragging through. We're in a dark entryway for a few seconds while he seems to struggle with a second door. Finally the door gives way and we stumble outside. The sun is so bright, even though it's well past noon, I have to close my eyes for a while. I'm still being dragged around. I'm so disoriented. How can he tell where he's going? I can smell rotting cabbage in the air. You can tell we're near the dumpsters. His breathing sounds labored. I notice mine is too._

_"Ok."_

_He drags me along for a few more steps before stopping and pushing me away from him. My feet slip on the gravel and I fall to the ground. It takes me a minute to get my bearings. The gun is still pointed at me, but he's looking around - I guess planning his escape route. _

_"Don't move. Don't make a sound." _

_I swallow and nod. I watch him as he stumbles through the tall grass and disappears behind the dumpsters. I sit there, waiting and listening. And he's gone. _

* * *

"JD, what are you doing here? I thought you got off an hour ago?"

"Hm?"

"Are you ok?"

A cold hand touches my bare shoulder. I jump. Damn Elliot and her freakishly cold hands! Wait - bare shoulder? What the hell? I look down at myself. Apparently I zoned out in the middle of changing into my street clothes. I'm standing in the locker room in my jeans with no shirt on.

"What? Did you say something?"

Elliot knits her eyebrows at me. "You were just standing here staring at the wall. You have goose pimples."

Goose pimples? I shudder. I hate it when people say goose pimples instead of goose bumps. Gross.

"How long have you been standing here like this?"

I don't know how to answer that, considering I have absolutely no idea. I guess she gets impatient with my silence and looks around for my clothes. She finds my shirt and stuffs it into my hands.

"What time is it?" I felt like I had to say _something_.

"It's around 10:00. Have you been down here since 9:00?"

I shrug. I probably have been. I don't remember.

"Sabrina! Looks like you've been working on developing the world's scrawniest doctor physique. What's your secret? Have you found the fountain of pubescence?"

I look down at myself and swallow. For some reason his comment has made me feel really insecure and ashamed. I look the same as I always do. He usually makes cracks about my flabbiness. I guess he got bored of that and moved on to make fun of something else. I decide now would be as good a time as any to finally put my shirt on.

"What are you still doing here, anyway. I sent you home an hour ago."

That seems to be the question of the hour. Elliot and Dr. Cox both busy themselves by getting their things out of their own lockers while I ignore them and grab the rest of my things out of my locker.

"I found him down here topless, staring at the wall. He must have had an extra imaginative daydream session this time. So, what was it this time? Dr. Acula? Floating head doctor?"

"Looks, like we lost her again, Barbie."

Oops. I must have zoned out again. This time it was my wallet that distracted me. Or, what's inside my wallet more accurately. I clear my throat and shove my wallet into my back pocket. I catch Elliot and Dr. Cox exchange glances. Oh no, they're sharing something. That's not normal. They don't share things!

Dr. Cox shakes his head and turns back to his locker while Elliot swings her backpack over her shoulder and walks over to me.

"Are you sure you're ok? You seem more out of it than usual and you haven't really been yourself lately. Are you coming down with something? Oh, no. There's an awful bug going around - you don't have a fever do you? Oh God, don't breathe on me! Frick!"

She went from standing next to me looking all concerned to covering her mouth and nose and jumping away from me like I was dripping with manure. I'm tired. My head is starting to ache, but I don't think I'm getting sick. I sigh.

"I'm not getting sick. Don't worry, your fine, Elliot."

She drops her arm in visible relief. "Oh, good. Geeze. I really didn't want to catch anything. I look awful when I'm sick, and Keith has never seen me look like that and I have no idea how he'd react and I'm feeling _really _vulnerable right now and I need him to love me and think I am pretty."

Breathe woman!

"Elliot, you _are_ pretty. I've seen you when you're sick, and you're still pretty. He's going to have to see it sometime, anyway."

Dr. Cox slams his locker shut and looks at us in disgust.

"Can you two not talk when I'm standing in the same room? In fact, I'd really appreciate it if you did not talk - ever. No words. Not one syllable."

"Can I grunt?"

Dr. Cox pretends to be deep in thought before replying. "You can only grunt if it's because I have torn your tongue from your annoying mouth and forced you to swallow it, and you're grunting in excruciating pain."

"Ah."

I see. It's nice to know where you stand.

"You better not be getting sick, Melinda. Because if you are getting sick, that means you've probably contaminated me by breathing all over me all day long and now I have to take a bath in lysol, which means I won't be getting any sex tonight, which means I will be one unhappy man tomorrow. And do you know who I'm going to take my anger and sexual frustration out on? That's right - you."

My headache is starting to get to me and all of a sudden I am in no mood to listen to one of Dr. Cox's speeches. I clench my jaw while I close my locker and place my backpack on my shoulders. I accidentally glance at him while turning to leave which apparently triggers "JD word vomit".

"If you were paying attention you would have already understood that I am not getting sick, nor am I sick. So don't worry your ridiculously curled head over it - it looks like you'll be getting plenty of sex tonight. We all know it's all about you anyway."

By the time I said the last part I was already heading out the door. My feet must have known the danger the rest of me could be in after a comeback like that since they are moving as fast as they can, short of sprinting down the corridors. Now that I was booking it down the hallway in what I hoped looked like a "leave me alone, I'm angry" walk, my anger has dissipated. Now the walk just feels stupid, but I sort of feel committed to it, so I keep going. I just want to get home where I can take some ibuprofen and go to bed and not think about guns and letters and suicide.

I hear footsteps coming up behind me. They're too light to be Dr. Cox's.

"JD!"

They're Elliot's. She jogs up along side of me and stares at me with great wonder.

"JD, I can't believe you said that! You should have seen his face. That was amazing - and a little scary - but mostly amazing. You totally told him off! Of course you realize he's going to kick your ass or maybe drain the break fluid in your scooter, but...still!"

She said all this while animatedly waving her arms around and laughing here and there. I just kind of scratch my head and smile a little at her excitement as we exit the hospital and step out into the parking lot.

"Yep, that's right. Don't mess with the J-Dog."

I try to sound all tough and gangster, but I just end up sounding like a huge dork. Oh, well. I'm used to that. Elliot laughs and smacks my arm playfully.

"Goodnight, JD."

"Goodnight Elliot."

She practically skips off to her car, which is parked around the corner. She turns back and yells, "Be careful - check your break fluid!"

I just smile and wave until she's turns back around and disappears around the corner. And there it is. That feeling is back. Instant loneliness. It makes the air feel heavier somehow and I can feel my entire demeanor change. It's silent and still out here without Elliot keeping me company. My eyes glaze over as I stand there in the middle of the parking lot. It occurs to me how isolated I've become. The sad thing is, if I'm honest, I'd admit that it's mostly of my own doing. I've withdrawn from everyone. If I really wanted to I could invite people over to see my apartment or head over to the bar to see who's around. I could offer to make Turk and Carla dinner or play board games with Elliot and Keith. Instead every night I go home, alone, and sit in semi-darkness in my nearly empty apartment. I don't even know for sure how I spend those hours every night. I have a feeling there is a lot of sitting and staring at nothing in particular. I have become somewhat obsessed with my floor, as well. Maybe it's because I stare at it so much. I keep sanding it down and cleaning it. I even put a wood protector coat down a few mornings ago when I woke up 3 hours before I needed to.

It feels like I've been this way for years. I know it's only been a little less than a month, but I can barely remember what my life was like before. I can't say that this is entirely new. I've spent the majority of my life like this. I never had many friends growing up. I think I pretty much weirded everyone out. Or annoyed them. I must have been one of those awkward needy people who no one likes to be around because they try waaay too hard to be accepted and liked. It's really only been since med school and working here that I managed to form a solid friend base, a true family.

Right now though, I'm beginning to doubt how close knit we really are. It doesn't appear that I've been missed all that much. True, Elliot might be picking up that something's a little off, but if the all knew me as well as I convinced myself they did, I guess I would have expected a little more of an acknowledgment of my absence.

Is that what I've been doing? Have I been trying to get some sort of pity response by purposefully pulling away? Am I the kind of person who would manipulate my friends like that? Am I trying to set them all up for failure somehow by quietly abandoning them and then expecting them all to come running after me with roses and kisses? Maybe it's all me. Maybe I have no right to feel disappointed in them. Maybe I'm being horribly unfair.

"Ok, Melinda, are you trying to pick a fight?"

"AH!"

Holy God in heaven! How does he do that?!

"'Cause seriously, anytime you want me to kick that scrawny ass of yours I'd be more than happy to oblige."

Shit shit shit. He's not actually going to beat me down right here in the parking lot is he? I suddenly realize that I am in fact still standing in the middle of the parking lot. I wonder how long I've been standing here thinking. I really have to stop doing that.

"I didn't know you were the kind of guy who beat up little girls." I mumble before I even knew the thought was in my head. What the hell am I doing? I must have a death wish. I squeeze my eyes shut and wince at my own stupidity. I need a better filter.

"Sorry." I mumble again. I'm kind of afraid to look at Dr. Cox. I open one eye and sneak a peek. He sucks on his teeth and touches his nose before folding his arms across his chest. Yep. I've pissed him off.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Cox. I didn't mean to snap at you...again. It's just been a long...day."

Or month...

"So you finally admit it."

"Admit what?"

"That I'm right and you really are a little girl."

I open the other eye and look at him more closely. Maybe he's not that mad. Now I'm confused. A car is coming. We're in the way. I blink at the headlights and move out of the way. Dr. Cox moves with me and we wait until the car goes by. I don't know if I'm supposed to just go over to my scooter and leave or if we're still having a conversation (if you can call what we were just having a conversation).

"So...you're not going to drain my break fluid?"

He doesn't really respond to my question. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and looks at me for a moment with that "I'm Dr. Cox and I'm being very serious right now" face.

I swallow. That's an anxiety producing face. It could mean a couple different things. It could mean he's about to berate me. Not in the abstract, mostly impersonal way he usually does, either. That face is often followed by a direct attack on a real and deep-seated character flaw. Or sometimes that face is followed by advice or words of wisdom. Sometimes a combination of both.

"Are you really feeling ok? You know that when you answer this question you don't have to try to be all macho and manly since we both know I'm not buying it."

Oh. Is that actual concern for my wellbeing? I'm a little confused. Again.

"Um...yeah. I can normally tell when I'm coming down with something. Machoness aside...I'm...not ill."

He looks at me as though he's trying to figure out of I'm telling the truth. What the heck?

"Why are people asking me that all of a sudden? Do I look that bad?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

How's that for an ego boost.

"You've lost weight."

I look at myself. No I haven't. What is he talking about?

"I don't think so. I look the same."

"Listen, Gidget. I know you want to be able to fit back into that little black number you wore to homecoming your Junior year in high school. You know, the one that you wore to try to get the captain of the football team to notice you? I hate to break it to you, but it didn't work then and I really don't think it's going to work now."

I squint at him. What is this? Maybe my scrubs are fitting me a little more loosely, but so what? I just haven't had the biggest appetite of all time lately. I haven't been starving myself or anything.

"Ok, I don't think I want to argue about whether or not I've lost weight. I don't understand why that would be such a big deal anyway."

Dr. Cox shrugs and then goes back to staring at me. Is he trying to get me to admit to something? I feel really weird and exposed. I feel like this is some kind of eating disorder intervention or something. It's really uncomfortable.

"Are you tired?"

"What?"

"Are. You. Tired?"

"Yeeeaah. So? I just worked for 15 hours. It's pretty much a given that I'll be tired."

And then I've managed to stand around getting lost in my own head for another hour and a half.

"Have you been more tired than usual?"

"Um...I don't know. Maybe. It's been a busy month."

This is getting stranger by the minute...or by the question.

"Alright, Newbie. Never mind. If you want to go around looking and acting like a zombie all day and then deny it, that's your business. Just don't let it get in the way of your work." He moves a step closer and sticks a warning finger in my face. "And don't you dare assume that it's ok for you to talk to me the way you did today. I know you're a rookie and you're getting used to the feeling of your sparkling new spine, so I'll let you live - this time. But if you so much as look at me with that kind of attitude again, I will not hesitate to rip that spine right through your pasty skin and snap it across my knee - got it?"

I swallow and nod. Holy shit that was scary. He grunts and walks over to his car, conveniently parked right next to my scooter.

"And for God's sake eat something of substance and get the hell to bed."

* * *

Author's note: Next up, another Dr. Cox POV. Yee haw. And maybe one of these days I'll actually get around to writing the next chapters to my other 2 fics…..sigh.


	13. Chapter 12: My Covert Operation

**Disclaimer: I don't own Scrubs or the characters**

**Dr. Cox's POV **

**

* * *

**

**Three Days Later...**

The kid has been ignoring me. He barely said a word to me all day yesterday, the day before, and we're already half way through our shifts today and I think the most he has said was "Dr. Cox, could you double check this patient's doses? I can't read this writing." This shouldn't be bothering me. I should be ecstatic. But apparently there is a difference between being ignored and being left alone. Who knew? Being left alone - now that I can handle. That's all I've ever wanted, really. But being ignored? As it turns out, that actually kind of sucks.

It might be my fault. I was planning on being nice to the kid, believe it or not. Every once in a while I actually put away "unfeeling asshole Perry" and take out "ok, maybe I care a little bit Perry". The one person I can always count on to allow me to make that transition seamlessly, without hassle or comment, has been Newbie. He likes that Perry. He responds well to him, and he does it without making me feel like a giant pansy.

The last two times I've tried to be the slightest bit real with him he thoroughly confused me...and maybe pissed me off a little. Ok - a lot. I'm not used to him being cynical and untrusting. It's not supposed to work that way. His inherent belief in mankind is his most annoying quality! Newbie being first and foremost, above all other things -** annoying** - can't those that quality! He just wouldn't be Newbie anymore. We have entered uncharted territory here, people. For the first time in the history of the known world, I have been the one attempting conversation with another human being - and failing 2.5 days in a row.

I know I shouldn't have yelled at the kid like that the other night. I think I actually scared him. Granted, that is generally my goal. These days however, I can't often convince myself that I am still able to reach that goal with most people. Now, he's not speaking to me or looking at me. Ok, I know, I know - I _did _threaten him a wee bit...so sue me. It's who I am. He should know that better than anyone. He usually bounces back by now. I've never known him to go this long being angry with anyone! It's not to say I don't sometimes deserve it, but come on! I'm the father figure. I'm the mentor. I'm the guy the kid is supposed to be forever trying to impress and earn the respect of and all that crap. He's supposed to put up with my crap and endlessly keep coming back. That's our thing. He's always been the one trying to convince me of that fact, and even though I figured that out and accepted it a long time ago - I would never tell him that. I'm not that pathetic...yet.

"Dr. Cox I-"

"BEAT IT!"

Ha ha. Still got it. I just have to test these things every now and then. There's nothing like seeing a scared little intern tuck his tail between his legs and flee the room. I don't even know that guy's name. I'll have to make one up for him later. You have to teach these kids early, you know? When they're young and scared and eager to learn. That's the best time to begin to mold them into frightened little children who know not to bother me while I'm trying to enjoy my lunch in peace and quiet. Oh, perfect. Now I sound like my dad.

I growl and rub my face vigorously with my hands. I am not my father, I am not my father. Damn it!

"Alright, Perry. What's wrong?"

I drop my hands onto the table with a loud "thunk". Ah, Carla. I suppose if I'm going to be interrupted it may as well be by one of the few people on this God forsaken planet that I can even remotely stand. I just look at her and groan. I'm sure that looked pretty pathetic. I don't much care though. I learned a long time ago that she can't be fooled by my masks and postures. I suppose we all need someone in our lives that can break down your walls with one look and force you to be honest with yourself. It doesn't mean that I still can't put up a fight when I feel like it, though. A man's gotta keep a certain sense of pride.

"Does this have anything to do with Bambi?"

Damn her. How does she do that?

I roll my eyes and lean back in my seat. I put by best grimace in place and try to tell her with my eyes that she's right. What? It's easier than admitting it out loud. Who do you think I am?

Carla nods and leans forward in her conspiratorial pose.

"Elliot told me Bambi told you off two nights ago. Is that true?"

"Oh, come on!"

Damn you, Barbie!

"Get over yourself. You've had it coming for a long time. So, what did you do this time?"

"Nothing!"

"Perry..."

Oooh, the warning tone. Please, Carla. Like that's going to work.

"Nothing! Barbie was wondering if he was feeling ok and I just expressed my concern..."

You are not talking to your mother. It's Carla. It's ok to lie.

"Oh, God. You expressed your concern? Are you sure he knew that's what you were doing? I don't know if you noticed, Perry, but it's kind of hard to tell when your being...human."

"Hey - why are you getting mad at me? He's the one who barked down my throat."

Great, now she's just glaring at me. I know what you're doing, Carla - and it won't work!

"Oh, all right, fine. It may have across as me being concerned that he might have contaminated me and I may have mildly threatened him about the consequences of that. Are you happy?"

Carla smiled. "So, what did he say?"

"What?"

"What did Bambi say?"

"Oh give me a break, I'm not telling you what he said. Besides, I know Barbie and her gigantic mouth already told you what he said."

"Oh, you're no fun. So...what else happened?"

I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.

"Perry, you know I'm going to pry it out of one of you eventually. You may as well just spill it."

One of us? So, Newbie hasn't talked to her about it yet. Huh.

"Don't you dare tell Newbie I talked to you about this."

Yeah, that's right. Point that finger in her face and make her squirm. She's not squirming. Damn.

"My lips are sealed."

I give her a look that tells her she's full of shit. Carla just tries to look innocent. We both know, I'm not buying it...not that it matters anyway.

"Well, I caught up with him in the parking lot."

"Mm hm."

I don't even know how to explain this.

"Carla, have you been noticing anything different about Newbie lately?"

She looks thoughtful for a moment and then shrugs and looks uncomfortable. "Yeah, maybe..."

She's lying.

"Well, I have. Ok, so I know it's Newbie and he's always been a little off...but lately...I don't know."

I'm getting frustrated. I can't seem to figure this out, and I can _always_ figure things out.

I wave my hand in the air, "Anyway...I saw him completely zoned out, standing in the middle of the parking lot. Earlier in the locker room Barbie found him just standing there without a shirt on, staring at the wall. Apparently he had been doing that for the better part of an hour."

Carla leans back looking worried. Great, now _I'm _worried. This isn't right. I'm not the one who's supposed to be sitting here in the cafeteria talking about how Newbie isn't acting like himself. Maybe this hospital is under some giant hole in the ozone layer.

"I blame Barbie."

"What?"

"She's the one who got me thinking he was getting sick! When I saw him in the locker room...he's lost weight."

"So? People's weight fluctuates."

"Oh really? Thank you for your keen observational skills."

"Cut the crap, Perry. Don't take it out on me just because you're actually starting to acknowledge the fact that you care about someone else."

I try to growl, but it ends up being a halfhearted sneer. Damn it. I have to figure this out because I can't go around worrying about someone.

"So I tried to get him to admit he's not feeling well."

"And how did you do that? With your celebrated powers of persuasion?"

"If you must know, Carla, I asked him. I just asked him if he was sure he was feeling ok."

"What? You just let it go that he told you off in the locker room in front of Barbie? Excuse me if I'm having a hard time believing that."

The woman has gotten too close. I shouldn't let anyone get to know me that well. This is all my doing.

"Oh, I don't know...I may have said something about being willing to kick his ass or something."

There's that look. I hate that look.

"What?! He started it!"

And I am 11 years old. Terrific.

"After that...after that I asked him how he was feeling. He of course said he wasn't getting sick. I pointed out that he had lost weight. He said he didn't think he has, but it wouldn't have been a big deal if he had. I asked him if he was tired. He said that he was. Yadda yadda yadda, I told him never to give me attitude again...end of story."

"Perry."

"Carla."

She rolls her eyes and smacks me in the arm.

"And now he's avoiding you because you turned all sinister on him, am I right?"

"Maybe."

She smacks me in the arm again. There are only two women in my life that I would allow to do that. Carla and Jordan.

"So what are we going to do?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what are we going to do about Bambi? Do you think something's really wrong? If something's really wrong, we need to help him."

I stand up and grab my tray.

"Oh, no no no no. I've tried. Twice. Which is more than what I normally do and I've already reached my helpfulness quota. This is not my problem."

I toss the rest of my food out and unceremoniously chuck the tray onto the top of the trash bin. I know this conversation isn't over. If Carla has resolved to help someone, she doesn't normally drop the subject that quickly. So of course, as I weave my way out of the cafeteria - she follows me. I have longer legs, I should be able to out walk the lady. However, she catches up to me and grabs my arm and pulls me into a comatose patient's room. Great. No good can come of a conversation had while in a comatose patient's room.

"Carla-"

"Knock it off, Perry. You're the one who noticed something was wrong in the first place. You're a doctor - what do we do?!"

I groan and tilt my head back. What the hell have I gotten myself into? The next thing I know Carla's going to call a "family meeting". I don't do family.

"Hey."

She lightly smack my arm again and motions toward the open door. I follow her arm and see the subject of my tremendous annoyance. Newbie.

He shuffles down the hallway with his head hanging low. He looks really down. We watch as he accidentally bumps into someone and barely looks up. It's like he was so lost in his own little world that he didn't even notice. He walks into the room across the hall and closes the door. The room is an empty one. We can still see him through the window as he sits down and stares at the floor for a while. I can feel Carla grab my arm as we both move closer to get a better look. Newbie starts to pick his head up and without thinking Carla and I duck down so we're out of site. We exchange nervous looks and slowly stand back up and go back to spying.

It feels like forever that the kid just sits there looking about as sad as I have ever seen him. Finally he fishes something out of his back pocket. It's a folded up piece of paper. He unfolds it slowly and looks at it. I think it's a letter or something. I can barely make out writing that looks like it fills most of one side of the paper. Carla and I stay still and quiet as he reads his letter and then he carefully folds it back up and puts it in his back pocket.

Oh shit. I think he just wiped away something on his face. Please don't tell me he's crying. You have got to be kidding me. I can't be expected to do anything with a crying Newbie. Carla grips my arm tighter and I can tell she's looking at me. I just clench my jaw and watch the kid. Maybe he's not crying...maybe he was just wiping away a stray hair or something. I'm pretty sure he had been crying that day I found him in the supply closet. Which is another oddity to add to the growing list of concerning facts about Newbie. He stands up and walks over the window on the far side of the room. He perches on the windowsill and pulls his knees into his chest. I've seen him in that pose before. It usually means he's struggling with something. Damn it! Is this what he's been doing on his lunch breaks? Hanging out in empty rooms looking forlorn and troubled? How am I supposed to react to that?

"Ooohhhh." Carla whines beside me.

"Whhhaaat." I whine back.

"I can't believe this! How did I not notice something was wrong?"

No no no no! Don't get all self-loathing on me, Carla.

"I mean, _you _noticed something was wrong. How come _you _noticed something was wrong with Bambi before I did?" She whines again and walks back into the room and sits down on the edge of the comatose patient's bed.

It looks like I'm going to have to be all comforting and crap. Ok, fine. If I'm going to do this - it's going to be behind closed doors. I close the door before plopping down on the bed beside her. She sniffs and lays her head on my shoulder. I sigh and put an arm around her. Damn her for turning me into a big softie.

"I think you're right."

"I'm always right."

"I think he has lost weight. And he did look tired. Was he crying? Because I think he was crying."

I don't say anything. What's there to say? I just rub her arm.

"I've been so self absorbed with the pregnancy, and Turk and I haven't hung out with him at all since he got back from vacation. We haven't even been over to his new apartment. I don't think anyone has come to think of it. Elliot hasn't mentioned hanging out with him. Well, we did go to the bar once when he first got back, but he didn't stay long. Elliot sort of wigged out on him. Poor Bambi. Maybe he's just lonely."

"Maybe."

I don't know. I have a nagging suspicion that there is something else going on here. Something bigger.

"I was really mean to him when he got back from vacation. Now that I think about it, I don't think he ever told us where he was that week. I was supposed to go to his mom's house for some family reunion get together and he never showed."

She is quiet for a second before suddenly lifting her head off my shoulder and blurting out, "Oh my God!"

"What?"

I wish she wouldn't have out bursts like that.

"Would if something happened that week that has been bothering him. Has something been going on for that long?" She whimpers and lays her head back on my shoulder.

"I don't know," I say quietly. "He hasn't said anything. You know he can't keep anything to himself. Maybe we're over reacting?"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I'm sure it's nothing. He probably is just adjusting to living alone."

She sniffs and nods.

"Maybe you're right."

"I told you, I'm always right."

Even as the words leave my mouth, I know it's a lie. I love Carla, (shut the hell up, it's no big secret) and the last thing I want is to have her stressing out while pregnant about Newbie. There are so many pieces of this idiot puzzle floating around in my head. It's true he has never been one to keep things inside. Eventually (and that usually means in the first 5 minutes of turmoil) he spills his guts to someone...to my immense displeasure that someone is far too often me. Recently he's been snappy and defensive. The boy only acts like that when he's...

...when he's hiding something.

* * *

"Gandhi, have you seen Heather?"

"Gah! What the hell? Were you just waiting around the corner to scare the living begeesus out of me or what?"

"What."

"What?"

"What?"

"What do you want? I'm supposed to be preparing a romantic dinner for my woman. I'm hoping that tonight's the night I'm going to get some lovin'!"

Oh good Lord...why me?

"I'm looking for your little girlfriend."

"Oh...uh..I don't know where he is actually. I think his shift ends right about now. Hey! Wanna hide around the corner and scare him to death when he comes out?!"

Oh how ridiculous. He looks like an idiot jumping up and down, all excited. Please.

"Do I want to what? Please, how old do you think I am? 7?" I scoff.

Pause.

Gandhi and I both look at each other before leaping over so we're hidden around the corner near the building. I can't believe I am doing this. Wait...what am I talking about? I just did this to Gandhi. Huh. Oh well. I have to get my kicks somehow.

"So what did you want to see JD for?"

"Who?"

"J.D."

"I'm sorry, who's JD?"

Gandhi rolls his eyes. "Heather."

"Oohhhh. Heather. Yeah, um...she's off tomorrow and I want to see if she can come over and play."

Gandhi just raises an eyebrow at me. "Come on, man. Be real. I think you and Carla are up to something. And I think it has something to do with the J-Dog. Am I right or am I right? Tell a brother he's right!"

"Shhhh. He'll hear you!"

"Oh, yeah. By bad."

"Ok, the truth?"

"No, I'd love a good lie right about now."

I roll my eyes. Damn, my legs are starting to get tired. Why am I crouched down anyway? He can't see us whether we're crouched down or standing up. This is stupid. I'm standing up.

"Has he talked to you about anything lately?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know...like why he seems to have eternal PMS."

"What are you talking about? He seems fine to me."

Maybe he is as stupid as he looks.

"I think he's hiding something and I want to get it out of him. You in?"

"Hell, yeah!"


	14. Chapter 13: My Long Walk

**Disclaimer: I don't own these characters or Scrubs - so can it.**

**JD's POV**

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* * *

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**2 Days later, about 1:30am...**

I can't sleep again. I'm pretty sure the nightmares have gotten worse. I don't think I've slept straight through until my alarm clock goes off for weeks. I sigh and look over at the red digital numbers of the alarm clock. 1:33am. Terrific. As usual, I slowly get up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes and make my way over to the window. This is part of what is becoming my middle of the night ritual. I wake up from some crappy nightmare (always in some way related to "the incident") and wander over to the window to look out at the dark, empty world. Everyone else is asleep. It must have rained earlier. The streetlights are shining off the dark pavement and there are small puddles scattered around the road. It looks still. Normally what comes next in my routine would be: me deciding I need to clean something, me re-reading John's letter for the 10th time, or me just sitting against the wall, staring at nothing. Tonight, though I am feeling inspired. I feel like walking.

I don't know what the temperature is outside, but I don't feel like dealing with a jacket. So, I just throw one of my many long sleeved shirts on under my t-shirt I was sleeping in and a pair of jeans. Once I'm outside I sort of regret not grabbing a jacket or a sweatshirt, but I have no intension of going back inside to get it. It's not _that _bad and I'm sure once I get moving I'll get used to the chilly air. At least there isn't any wind. There's not even a breeze. I shove my hands into my jean's pockets and raise my shoulders so my arms could be as close to my body as possible. The streets around my apartment are small and not very busy, especially at this time of night. So I decide to walk down the middle of the road instead of the sidewalk.

As my feet find a slow, meandering rhythm, my mind starts to wander back to this most recent nightmare. It started pretty much the same as usual - a flash back to the Travel Plaza. The dream was replaying the events leading up to Tim's heart attack and the shooting. This time it was a little different, though. This time it was me who was wielding the gun. This time I was the one who shot Gary, and no one was there to re-start Tim's heart. No one called for an ambulance. This time Gary died right there on the floor in a pool of his own blood, by my hand.

I've had better dreams.

This one has left me quietly shaken. I'm not shaking (trembling slightly because I'm chilly, but that's all), I'm not weeping or wailing. I'm just...walking. There's something about wandering the dark, wet streets in the wee hours of the morning with the moon peaking out from the wispy clouds that mellows a person out. It makes you feel more connected with your own mind, and less connected with everything around you. The world becomes surreal. It would be serene if the images in my head weren't so morose. My feet take me to the main road and I automatically stick to the sidewalk instead of the middle of the road. Something in my brain is trying to do something rational.

I smirk when I realize that my built-in survival/safety instinct doesn't want me to get hit by a car. I guess I still have that. At least one part of me gives a crap about my wellbeing. I smell cigarette smoke. I look around and notice that I'm passing a tiny 24 hour convenient store and the lone employee is leaning against the side of the building smoking. Since I've developed something of a disdain for my wellbeing as of late, I decide that I am going to make the stupidest decision I could make at this very moment. I decide to buy my very own pack of cigarettes, and a lighter.

It occurs to me as I walk away from the store, trying to pack my cigarette's like I've seen people do by hitting the box against the heel of my hand, that I wasn't in the least scared to walk in there. I almost chuckle to myself as I pull out a cigarette and light it as though I've been doing this for years. I wasn't scared. I didn't even think about the fact that I was walking into a 24 hour convenience store in the middle of the night, in a questionable part of town. I haven't once thought about the fact that walking around these streets alone at night, most of the time so deep in thought that I'm not paying attention to my surroundings, is not the safest thing I could be doing. I've never been one to be scared of the things that go bump in the night anyway, but after my run in with the barrel of a gun I had become a bit more jumpy. Maybe it's progress that I'm not feeling the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Or maybe it's that I've stopped caring about my own safety. It's not like I was considering Gary's safety when I ignored John's instructions to stand still.

I remember my dream. I can see clearly the gun in my hand. The cigarette has burned down to the filter. I toss it away in a swift angry movement and light another one (something I'm sure I'll pay for later when I'm feeling sick and wishing I would just throw up). Maybe I would have been scared if there were other people in the store with me. Maybe the fear hasn't been completely turned off. Maybe I'm just picky about what triggers the fear. My head is starting to hurt. I'm sick of thinking about this. But what else is there to do but think when you're walking alone at night? I've never been very good at controlling the topics my brain picks out.

I notice that the bar is across the street from me now. The bar I _used _to go to...with my friends. I must have been walking for about 30 minutes. I should have brought my watch, but I'm guessing it's a little after 2:00am. It looks like the bar is closing up for the night. There are a few patrons hanging around the parking lot, getting ready to go home and call it a night. I vaguely wonder if anyone I know went in there tonight. I bet Dr. Cox was there since he doesn't have to work until this afternoon. He'll have plenty of time to sleep in, lucky bastard.

Speaking of Dr. Cox - he's been acting kind of strange lately. Heh. So have I. Maybe he was held hostage, too. I doubt it, though. When I was leaving work the other day, I went out my "Tess exit" hoping to catch her before I left, sadly she wasn't there. As I was riding off on Sasha I saw him crouched down with Turk around the corner of the hospital. What the heck was that all about? They looked like they were hiding from something...or someone. Probably me. I can only imagine how I seem to people these days. Carla's was giving me the strangest looks that day - ever since lunch. I wonder what's on her mind.

I take another drag. I should head back soon. I highly doubt I will be getting anymore sleep tonight, though...so I guess it doesn't matter. So, I got two hours of sleep tonight before starting another long day of work. I'd say I've been averaging about four hours of sleep per night this month. At what point does your body start to completely malfunction? How long can a person go with so little sleep? Sadly...I'm quite sure I could go for many years on this schedule. My pace slows down as that thought sinks in. Years? Is this going to be the way it is for _that_ long?

One day at a time, JD. No need to get ahead of yourself. I just have to get through my twelve hour shift tomorrow, and then see what happens. At least I had today off. Not that I slept in or had a particularly restful day, mind you. I did what has become my normal routine for my days off. I went to see Gary and his girls. His brother and wife were in his room yesterday when I got there. Then his mom came when I was leaving. I'm slowly meeting this man's whole family. They are all warm, generous people. They always tell me that I can stay in the room with them while they're visiting. They take me down to the cafeteria to have coffee with them. They hug me and ask how I'm doing. I still feel a little awkward around them and I always insist that they have alone time with Gary, but I'm beginning to feel more and more at ease with his family. There is still no change in his condition and it's plain to see that this is really taking a toll on everyone. It breaks my heart.

Tim had stopped by to visit the day before yesterday. I can't believe I missed him by a day! This time, I left my name and the number at Sacred Heart for Tim to call the next time he goes to visit Gary. They said Tim was recovering nicely, but they were afraid that he was lonely living out there in the woods. I remember him telling me that it was better to be lonely than let down. I wonder if he still feels that way. I certainly let him down. He probably won't call. I don't blame him. I'm the guy with the gun in my hand.

My feet take me farther and farther away from my apartment, the convenience store, the bar...anything familiar. I detour off to some side streets where there are very few streetlights. It's dark and even more quiet and undisturbed than the main road was before. I want to walk forever. I just want to go and go until I slowly fade out of existence. Why can't I do that? Why can't I just walk until the night engulfs me? I shake my head and light another cigarette. This is crazy. I'm fine. I don't need to be eaten by the night! I just to need wait this out...or adjust to it if this is permanent...whatever "this" is.

At some point in my walk I decide I should probably turn around. The sun is starting to rise. The sky has lightened and just on the edge of the horizon the golds and pinks of the sunrise are starting to form and spread. I decide to stop in a nearby park to watch the colors change. Sitting on a child's swing, I let the dawn of a new day wash over me. The dew begins to sparkle on the grass. I take my sneakers off and feel the soft, damp blades sweep under my feet as I lazily swing back and forth. Pretty soon the world around me will start to wake up. And here I am...just wishing I could go to sleep and not dream, wishing I could enjoy the beautiful sunrise and the feel of the grass on my feet, wishing none of this has ever happened and that Gary was getting ready to enjoy his anniversary cruise with his wife instead of lying motionless in a hospital bed, wishing this pain in my chest would go away and that I could remember how to be happy again.

* * *

**5:53am**

"Woah, dude. You look like you just got done working a double instead of coming back after a day off."

I snort and throw a side long glance at Turk. I meant to glance at him and go back to putting my stuff away, but I stop and do a double take. He was looking at me with such a serious expression, I felt like I had missed something important. It's possible. I don't really talk to people anymore. I've probably missed a lot of things. I swallow back a lump of guilt in my throat. If I keep this up, I'm going to lose all my friends. No one wants to be in a one-sided friendship, and right now I don't really feel like I have anything to give anyone. I can't even seem to ask anyone how anyone is doing let alone provide any sort of support or encouragement. I wouldn't even know if anyone needed support and encouragement.

"Hey,"

I blink and flinch slightly. I had sort of spaced out while staring at Turk's face. Oops.

"Hey..."

Hey what? Were we talking about something?

"JD..."

Oh, shit. What now? Now I'm nervous about what it is he's going to say.

"Yeah?"

Turk looks me in the eye and opens his mouth, like he's about to say something profound and unforgettable. Then the door to the locker room opens and his eyes shift from mine to the door. I turn to look, too. It's Dr. Cox. Whoo hoo! Saved by the...Dr. Cox.

"Morning." I put a small smile on my face as I greet him. He looks at me. I watch as his eyes leave my face, trail down to my feet, and back up to my face. He raises an eyebrow and then looks over my shoulder to Turk. Dr. Cox nods to Turk while grabbing his lab coat and sliding it on in one graceful movement. I look back at Turk who seems to be trying to relay some kind of information with his eyes to Dr. Cox. Something is going on with those two, which makes me feel even more nervous.

"Marianne, tell me." Dr. Cox wipes at something invisible on the end of his nose and walks over to us with his hands on his hips.

"Do you have something against wearing makeup? 'Cause I gotta tell ya. This new 'natural' look doesn't really do anything for you. If you're going to stop sleeping all together, at least put some concealer on those black circles under your eyes."

I reach up to touch my face, which is stupid since it's not like you can _feel_ black circles.

"I couldn't sleep..." even to me my voice sounds distant and fuzzy.

"Is it noisy at your new apartment?" Turk asks, suddenly donning a not quite genuine casual facade.

I shrug, "Not really...I don't know. It's pretty quiet I guess."

"Why couldn't you sleep?" Dr. Cox asks. He's doesn't seem to feel the need to act casual. This whole thing is seriously causing my anxiety level to skyrocket. What the hell? Why can't I just calm down. It's not like I haven't had a conversation with these people before.

I turn to look at Dr. Cox, who now has his arms crossed across his chest. And now I feel like I'm on the stand.

"Uh...I don't know...I went to bed at 11:30, woke up at 1:30, and couldn't get back to sleep."

"You didn't by any chance go for a walk did you?"

I furrow my brows at Dr. Cox. How did he know?

"Y-yeaah...why?"

"I thought I saw you walk by the bar when I was leaving last night."

"You mean this morning?"

Dr. Cox rolled his eyes before fixing them back on me. There was a softness there that I don't see all that often. I find it funny that the softness followed the eye roll. I felt like laughing...well, maybe if I had more energy. Actually, to be perfectly honest I feel like shit. I smoked a grand total of 6 cigarettes in the space of 4 hours. I don't know if that's a lot or what, but it was a lot for me. I still feel queasy.

Ok, there is now an awkward pause in the conversation. I shift my weight to my other foot and wonder if I should just go to work or if I should wait to see if there is anything else they wanted to ask me.

"That's quite the walk."

He has no idea. I just kind of shrug and look back at Turk who is just standing there giving Dr. Cox a strange look. I wish I had Carla's powers of mind reading.

"JD..." Turk looks somewhat uncomfortable while he fishes for words and I realize that there might be a real reason why this whole interaction is making me anxious.

"I-is there something going on? I mean...you've...changed."

And there it is. This whole conversation has just been a build up to that. I find that the anxiety pretty much melted away at the moment that sentence was uttered. It was the perfect opening for me to finally tell them. But I _had_ changed. That desire to let it all out has slowly been replaced by a hardened cynicism. I've become resigned. I have given up the idea that simply telling my story would magically take away all the pain that it has brought me. Maybe it was a childlike thing to think...that my friends could take this all away for me. Maybe this is all part of growing up - realizing that there are things in life that you have to deal with on your own. Or maybe it's childlike for me to stand here, defiantly raising my chin and setting my jaw. Maybe I'm just a stubborn ass. It could be. After all...I had changed.

I look at Turk, and then Dr. Cox. They were waiting. The only possible reply I could think of was this:

"Yeah. I have."

* * *

**12:15pm**

It's been an impossible morning. I swear every patient I had kept coding on me, I spilled coffee on my only pair of scrubs I have here, and Dr. Cox has been acting really bizarre around me. I don't think I've ever seen him like this. He actually seems like he doesn't know what to say to me. He's the king of snarky comments and witty speeches. I've seen him give people the cold shoulder before. I've seen him use the silent treatment. But, I'm pretty sure I've never seen him at a loss for words - at least not for 6 hours straight. I feel a little swelling of pride. I'd like to think I had something to do with his uncharacteristic silence. I'd like to think I finally, after all these years - shocked him.

That nearly cocky pride, however, is accompanied by guilt. I can't seem to make up my mind how I want to feel these days. I feel all sharp and cold towards people. I feel as though I've accomplished something by turning Dr. Cox into the guy who doesn't know what to say. At the same time, I hate that I make people uncomfortable now. I don't want my friends to _not_ know what to say around me. I don't want to be this guy. I want to make people laugh, don't I? I want everyone to like me. I want everyone to be happy and at ease. So why can't I go back to the guy who cracks jokes and tries to diffuse every fight at the first sign of tension? Why am I stuck here, being pulled back and forth between accepting this new JD and hating him?

I sigh and push open the door to my new escape route, "Tess' exit". There she is. I haven't seen her in a few days. Her back is to me. She has headphones on, and of course is smoking. I allow myself a small smile and step up beside her. Her head is tilted to the side and she's staring straight ahead. I fish into my pocket and pull out my own cigarette. I don't know why I'm doing this. I have just barely gotten over the effects of the smoking I did this morning on my walk, and the smell of the tobacco is making my stomach churn. I light it anyway. When I'm done I notice Tess is looking at me. Her eyes are clear, and calmly searching mine. I should be squirming under that gaze, but I'm not. It's okay. She's safe.

Without a word of greeting, Tess takes off her headphones and gently places them over my ears. She gave me a cute smile and lightly tapped the end of my nose before walking over to lean against the wall. Giving her a somewhat perplexed smile in return, I readjust the headphones. Just as I'm about to wonder if I'm supposed to hit play on the portable CD player I hadn't even noticed she had placed in my hand, the mournful sound of a violin and acoustic guitar begin to fill my ears. A man starts to sing with a soulful, raspy voice. The words are gentle and honest, and the sound is mesmerizing. It's easy to zone out and just let the music envelope me.

_"I never learned to count my blessings, I choose instead to dwell in my disasters."_

I exhale slowly and close my eyes.

_"...still it's hard somehow to let go of my pain..."_

As the chorus plays the first time, a familiar heaviness sets in - causing me to sit down on the cement platform.

_"Will I always feel this way?  
So empty, so estranged.  
Of these cutthroat busted sunsets,  
These cold and damp white mornings I have grown weary.  
If through my cracked and dusty dimestore lips  
I spoke these words out loud would no one hear me?"_

Tears escape from my closed eyes and slowly course down my cheeks. I lean my head onto the metal pole next to me.

_"Will I always feel this way?  
So empty, so estranged. _

_Well I looked my demons in the eyes,  
Laid bare my chest said do your best destroy me.  
See I've been to hell and back so many times  
I must admit you kinda bore me. _

_There's a lot of things that can kill a man,  
There's a lot of ways to die.  
Yes and some already dead who walk beside me.  
There's a lot of things I don't understand,  
Why so many people lie.  
Well it's the hurt I hide that fuels the fire inside me. _

_Will I always feel this way?  
So empty, so estranged."_

My fingers find the repeat button and the song begins again. I've always been strongly affected by music, but I've gotten away from it these past few years. It's been a long time since I've found a song that resonated this strongly within me. The second time through I'm able to focus on the lyrics more closely and I begin to feel them sink into my soul. My tears keep coming, slowly and steadily. As it begins to play again for the third time I open my eyes and see that my cigarette had gone out. I hate to break this trance I'm in by lighting it, but I do anyway. I actually remember to smoke the thing.

Tess sits down next to me and looks at me with those clear eyes again - the ones that make me feel like she knows what this is like. She smiles at me. It's a gentle, soft smile. My tears have slowed down, but I feel one more break free and slide down my face. I'm only vaguely embarrassed that Tess is seeing that. I don't cry in front of people. It's not so much a male pride thing, my body just doesn't typically allow it. Before this, I barely cried even when I was alone. Tess reaches up and runs her fingers through my hair lightly. My eyes flutter close. It feels so nice, even if it is a brief touch. The touch is barely there, more like a breeze. How long has it been since I've been touched like that by anyone? It's simple in it's intimacy. It's not romantic or flirty. It's just human connection. The moment probably only lasted for a second, but it is such an important second. The breeze leaves my hair and I can feel Tess shift beside me. I open my eyes to see her standing.

"Keep it." She mouthed to me, motioning to the CD player.

"Thanks." I mouth back. And she disappeared back into the hospital.

* * *

**7:15pm**

"Vanilla Bear!"

Damn it. I almost made it to Sasha without anyone stopping me. He's interrupting my music, too. That was going to be my soundtrack for my ride home. I make my "what the hell?!" face while my back is still to Turk, and then try to replace it with something more pleasant before turning around. Carla is with him. Great. What kind of fun "JD, you've changed" talk am I going to have now? I hit the stop button on Tess' CD player and smile at my friends.

"Hey guys."

"Whatcha listening to?" Turk cranes his head to peak at the CD player as though he could see through if he tried hard enough. Maybe I'm wrong, but I'm pretty sure he's making an effort to sound like everything is totally normal. I can tell that, like Dr. Cox, he doesn't feel 100 comfortable around me right now. I glance at Carla who has an altogether too cheery smile on her face. So, she's in on this too I take it.

"You wouldn't like it. It's white music."

Turk frowns. "Oh. You're not listening to Jimmy Buffet are you?"

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Oh."

Carla, anytime you want to jump in...

"Bambi, why haven't you invited us over to see your apartment yet?"

I almost flinch from the abruptness of Carla's question. When I wanted her to join in, I wasn't exactly expecting that.

"Baby!"

"What?"

"That's rude, you don't just ask questions like that." Without skipping a beat Turk turns back to me. "Dude, can we come over to your apartment?"

"Turk!"

"What?"

"My question was rude? You just invited us over to someone else's place!"

"It's JD!"

"So?"

"So...JD - you don't mind do you?"

Yes.

"No."

Damn it.

"See."

Carla rolled her eyes at Turk, but plastered that smile back on her face when she turned to me.

"We miss you Bambi."

She reaches out to take my hand, I start to jerk back, but she's too fast and snatches it anyway. For some reason, that irritates me. This whole thing irritates me. I don't want to entertain people tonight! I just want to listen to Tess' CD (that I haven't even looked at to see who this amazing person is) and feel sorry for myself. I've made my bed. I want to fucking lie in it.

"Whoa."

Suddenly I feel Carla wrap me in a hug. I hesitate before wrapping my own arms around her back. Once again, that internal battle begins. I feel guilty for being annoyed with her and for wanting the night to myself. By the time I'm ready to really hug her back, she's already pulling away. She keeps her hands on my arms and stands back looking at me. I can't help but notice the differences between the way Tess was looking at me earlier and the way Carla is looking at me know. I suppose part of that might be that I have completely romanticized Tess in my mind, but non-the-less, the difference is real. I know Carla. I know that she won't be able to relate to this. I know there is still a part of me that wants to protect her, and Turk. A part of me never wants them to find out everything that happened because I know it will hurt them. Besides that, she's not neutral ground. She knew the old JD. Tess didn't.

I sigh and drop my head down to my chest. I can't do this to them. I can't just completely pull away from everyone I love. I might not be able to share everything, but it's not fair to just drop them entirely just because things aren't perfectly hunky-dory.

"I miss you, too."

It comes out as a whisper, but at least I'm finally able to respond. I mean it, too. I _do_ miss her. I miss everyone.

I miss myself.

* * *

**Author's Note: I meant to add that the song Tess had JD listen to was "Empty" from Ray Lamontagne's album "Till the Sun Turns Black". He's a impressive folk-esque/blues-y singer/songwriter more or less from Maine. If you ever get the chance to listen to him, I suggest you snatch it up! He has another album titled "Trouble", FYI.**

**I continue to be utterly amazed at the reviews. You people baffle and humble me. I can't thank you all enough for the kind words and the helpful criticisms. I love you!**


	15. Chapter 14: My Unexpected Visitor

**Disclaimer: I own nothing...well, maybe my own shame...**

**JD's POV **

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**The next day, about 8:00am. **

"Hey, buddy!"

I groan and turn my head enough to peek at Turk with one eye cracked open. I can't believe I've already been working for two hours...or maybe it's that I can't believe that I've _only _been working for two hours. Ten hours to go and I'm already on my third cup of coffee that has only made my hands shake and caused me to run to the bathroom an abnormal amount of times. Ten hours left and my head is buried in my arms on the counter of the nurse's station. I think I could fall asleep here...standing up.

"Woooaah. Did you go out drinking after we left last night or something? You look like crap."

I smile sleepily and slowly straighten myself out, yawning and stretching as I work out the kinks.

"Oh yeah. You missed one hell of a rager last night, Chocolate Bear. And the women? Ohhhh the women."

Turk snorted and leaned against the counter next to me. I tried to subtly mimic his relaxed pose. Out of the corner of my eye I scan my best friend's face. We've barely said anything to each other so far today - this being the first time we've seen each other. When you're close friends for as long as Turk and I have been, it becomes pretty easy to get a decent read on someone with very little to go on. For instance, right now I can tell by the complete lack of tension in his shoulders and the smile playing behind his eyes that in his mind, everything is back to normal between us.

I smile at him even though he's not looking. In my head it's one of those smiles you see people use when they're watching children play. You know, when their lives are messy and dirty and everything seems like it's gotten so complicated they feel like they're going to explode or lose their mind? In the midst of their crisis or struggle they might hear the untainted sound of a child's laughter or watch the innocent play of a brother and sister - and smile. It's a sad, contemplative smile. One that knows the contrast of what life was like then, and what life could become. It's almost a condescending smile - an "I know more than you do now" smile. Yet, it carries hope...hope that one day things could become less complicated.

So, I'm giving Turk that somewhat condescending, "oh, if only you knew" smile because right now for him it's all very simple. He was worried about me. He had noticed a change in me and in our friendship. Last night I tried to push it all away and just hang out with him, and Carla. In my mind it was strained and tedious the whole two and a half hours they were with me. For Turk it was a clear sign that things were going to be ok. I did something human, something almost JD-like. To him, last night meant I had pulled myself out of the rut I was in. End of story, all is mended.

"So, what do you have going on tonight?"

I clear my throat as an attempt to free myself from my thoughts.

"Uh, tonight? Well, quite a lot actually."

Turk perked up. He had a goofy, toothy grin on his face and a twinkle in his eye.

"Really? Like what?"

"Umm...let's see...I believe the plan is to find the seediest bar in town, where I will get completely trashed. From there I'll head out to the corner and pick up the prostitute with the most tattoos and take her back to my place. After that, I'm just going to play it by ear. Maybe hit the smack or "e" or whatever it is the kids are doing and-"

"Alright, alright, I get it."

I chuckle a little bit while Turk shakes his head at me.

"You have nothing planned, do you?"

"Nope. Nada."

"Well, we were thinking about your furniture...situation..."

And here comes the charity donations.

"We have an extra bureau you could use if you want it - and that chair that Carla hates. We could bring them over later if you want."

I have to swallow back the bitter taste of complete and utter ungratefulness and irritation that is rising in my throat. Lack of sleep is seriously turning me into a huge grouch. It's also causing me to get bizarrely possessive of my alone time. My brain flashes to a shot of me crouching like a tiger in the jungle, wild eyed and vicious. I growl and swat at Turk and Carla as they try to move closer to me.

"It's ok if you don't want them...I could go with you to pick out your own stuff."

Oops. I must have let my inner hostility reach my face.

"Oh, no - sorry. I'd really appreciate the bureau and the chair. Thanks, Chocolate Bear."

He looks relieved.

"Good because I really didn't want to go furniture shopping with you. I love you and all, but...a man's gotta draw the line somewhere."

He smiles and claps me on the shoulder. I smile back.

"I have to get back to work. I'll see you later, buddy."

"See ya."

"Go get some coffee!" He hollers back to me without turning around.

I sigh and lean back on the counter. I think I have to pee again, but I don't really feel like walking down the hall to the bathroom. The last thing I need is more coffee. What I _need_ is sleep...and peace. I got my usual 3 hours of sleep last night. I had another awful nightmare. This one was more violent than all the others. Once again, I was the one holding the weapon. Only this time it was Tim's knife instead of John's gun in my hand and...well...you get the picture. It wasn't a pleasant image to have stuck in your head at 2:30 in the morning.

I can feel my hands start to shake. I don't know if it's from the dream coming back to me again, or the coffee, or fatigue. I clench my jaw and squeeze my hands into fists, pressing them into my thighs - trying to get them to stop shaking. As it turns out tensing your muscles only makes the shaking worse. Not only that, tightening my muscles has also caused the need to go to the bathroom to become _very _apparent. I roll my eyes at myself and make my way to the bathroom to "do my business". While I'm in there I here something being announced over the intercom. Whoever set the system up didn't think to put speakers in the bathroom, so I can't here it very well. I glance at my pager. If it's anything I have to worry about, someone would page me I'm pretty sure.

I take my sweet time in the bathroom, relishing the quiet. A loud growl from my stomach breaks the peaceful silence I had been enjoying and I frown down at the offender.

"Shh." I rebuke it sternly. "I fed you...yesterday? Maybe? Hmm…"

My frown deepens while I try to think of when and what I ate last.

"I think I had a handful of chips at some point, didn't I? At lunch? Oh, wait. That was a couple days ago. Shoot. Ok, so maybe you have a right to hungry, but that doesn't mean you should get all pissy about it. The only person who can growl in anger around here and not sound laughably ridiculous is Dr. Cox."

I don't let fact that I have humanized my stomach and that I am talking to it bother me in the slightest. No one else is in here. If no one catches you acting insane than it doesn't count, right? Suddenly a thought occurs to me and I snap my fingers victoriously.

"Apple! I had an apple at lunch yesterday! Ha! I knew I was forgetting something. In your face, Mr. Grumbles!"

For some reason I feel very satisfied with this discovery. I can't help but give myself a smug smile in the mirror as though I've just figured out how to make smudge-free glass. My smug smile drops from my face once my eyes focus on the image in the mirror. For one thing, I think I look worse than I've ever seen myself look. I lean forward to get a closer look. What's the deal with my skin? What color would you call that? It looks like the offspring of a lemon and a lime that was left out in the sun and had most of the color sun bleached away. I prod at the skin on my face briefly before grunting in disgust and pulling my hands away. My hair is completely lifeless...and so are my eyes. They look like they've receded into my head and croaked.

"My God..."

I whisper to myself. Even whispers sound loud in bathrooms. The acoustics are incredible.

"That's not me. That can't be me."

I'm still whispering. No wonder people were bugging me about whether or not I'm sick. I look worse than my cancer patients after a chemo treatment. I pull back from the mirror and sigh. I can hear the muffled sounds of the intercom system in the hallway again. I look up at the ceiling as though that would help me hear what they're saying. Idiot. I could actually go back to work, out in the hallway where I could hear the stupid thing instead of hiding out in the bathroom discovering that my reflection has been abducted and replaced with a sick puppet.

I roll my eyes and am about to leave the room when I notice something else reflected in the mirror. There - in the corner stall - someone's there. I thought I had checked the stalls...how did I miss that? But sure enough, I can see a pair of eyes peering out the space between the door and the partition.

I've been caught. I've been caught talking to my stomach and talking to my own reflection. So, I do what anyone else would do when realizing this. I pretend that I didn't just notice that I wasn't alone and I make a hasty, yet casual exit before the person can see my face turning bright red from embarrassment.

Who did I just make a huge fool of myself in front of I wonder? Why didn't he say anything? Maybe he was in there to "make poopie" and was waiting for privacy. Or maybe he had _already _made poopie and didn't want to open the door to reveal his identity or release the stink. Maybe he was about to come out when he heard me talking to my stomach and didn't want to embarrass me by waltzing out mid-moment-of-insanity. Maybe he was spying on me! Oh, great. It was the janitor. It had to have been! Who else would hide in a bathroom stall waiting for me to walk in and provide more material with which to torture me incessantly about.

"Dr. Dorian, please report to the receptionist area. Dr. Dorian to the receptionist area, please."

Oh shit! The intercom message - it was for me!

I pass Carla on my way down the hall.

"Hey, Carla!" I smile and wave as I go.

"Bambi, where have you been? They've paged you 4 times already."

I just shrug and keep going, giving her a sheepish look. I turn around to see her shake her head while continuing on her way down the hallway. When I turn back around I notice the Janitor has appeared in front of me. I gasp and flinch in anticipation of whatever it is he's going to do. He just stands there staring at me and I stare back. A staring contest. I can win this! Now, think back JD. Were those the eyes you saw reflected in the mirror a minute ago? I don't know...I didn't get a good look. While I'm standing here trying to figure out if it was him or not, he's probably standing there trying to think of a way to use his knowledge of my bathroom time for evil.

"You think you're too important to answer when you're being paged?"

"What?"

"You have something against receptionists, now?"

"Um...no..."

"Yeah, I bet you do."

He reached over and flipped my stethoscope up, tauntingly.

"You sicken me."

"What? Why? I don't have anything against-"

"Save it, Ace."

Ace?

"4 times."

"What?"

"That poor girl has paged you 4 times. And you call yourself a decent human being."

As usual I am left utterly baffled at how our conversations turn into this nearly every time.

"I um, have to go - I was actually on my way to-"

"Mm hm. Taking your sweet time I see. Did you stop for a donut and coffee on the way?"

Does he think I'm a cop or something?

"No. I was in the-"

The janitor put his hands over his ears and started singing loudly to himself and walked away.

"-bathroom...oookkk."

I blink a few times in confusion, but decide to keep going on my merry way. I grab onto my stethoscope so I can jog down the hallway without it bouncing into my face. I have some time to mull over my conversation with the janitor on my way. Not that it's ever in my best interest to spend any amount of time in thought on that subject...but hey. So, he either wasn't the one in the bathroom and really didn't know where I was - which would also explain why he knew that I had been paged 4 times. Wait a minute! He knew I had been paged. He knows my name.

"He knows my name!"

I shout it to whoever and spin around while still jogging. Oh my word. I can't believe it! All this time. I'm laughing out loud now. I must look deranged. I see Doug walking towards me. He catches me smiling and laughing and automatically starts smiling and laughing with me. So I grab him playfully by his upper arms when we pass each other and give him a light shake.

"He knows my name!"

"That's great, JD!"

I clap him on the shoulder and we go our opposite directions, both still smiling and laughing. This is HUGE! How long has he known? That little punk…er very tall punk. What the hell is wrong with me? I can't seem to find anything to be happy about, I can barely dredge up a smile for my friends, but the knowledge that the janitor has known my name possibly all along is making me giddy? I am ridiculous. Oh, well. Whatever works! I'm gonna go with it, even if my face cracks from lack of use.

I continue down the hallway like this - shaking my head in wonder, smiling. My eyes feel bright, almost feverish. I don't think I'm fighting off any illnesses of any kind...so I must just be naturally delusional. Yea me! My feet finally find (wow...that's lots of words that start with "f" all in a row...) - FOCUS! Ooohh...another "f" word. Heh heh heh "f" word. Wow...anyway - so I made it to lobby and I'm in the middle of letting the receptionist know that I'm Dr. Dorian answering her page...

"Hi, hello, excuse me. I'm Dr. Dor-"

When I hear someone behind me say:

"Hello, JD."

Wait, I think I recognize that voice...that sounds like...

I turn around.

"Tim?"

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Author's Note: OK, something weird happened at the end of this with my style of writing. Huh. This isn't where I was planning on ending this chapter, but since I was taking forever, I thought I may as well just end it and submit it. The next chapter will be Dr. Cox POV. I hope that one comes out better than this one. I had such a hard time, and I have no idea why. None of what was written here, except for the blurb about Turk and Carla's visit with JD and the very end where Tim visits JD at the hospital, was planned out. So that should explain why it seems awkward and disjointed and...dull. Ug. Sorry people. I guess it's not much of a tide me over, huh? Ah well. Better luck next time I guess.


	16. Chapter 15: My Guilty Conscience

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything of value, including Scrubs or the characters **

**Dr. Cox's POV **

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**About 8:10am, in a men's bathroom at Sacred Heart... **

Ahhh...nothing like adult alone time. Since Jack came into my live, I have precious little of that. I get plenty of "adult time" with the hours I put in here at the hospital. Somehow, that doesn't really count, though. I missed my exercise time yesterday. That royally pissed me off. I better get that in today or I'm going to have to find someone to torture all day. Ok. I think I've been admiring my manly physique in the mirror long enough. I don't know why people are always complaining about the florescent lights in this place. I look fine to me.

The sound of footsteps coming down the hallway filters through the closed bathroom door. I roll my eyes and moan. I should bring in a "do not disturb sign" and barricade the door so I can have 5 minutes of peace and quiet without some moron bursting in here to take a leak. I guess it's time to retreat to a stall so at least no one talks to me. I'm kind of in a bad mood...wait a minute...I'm always kind of in a bad mood. Never mind.

I close the door to my own personal box of seclusion just in time for the bathroom door to swing open. I can hear whoever it is shuffle up to a urinal and do their business. Not that I'm _trying_ to focus on the sound of someone else peeing, but holy lord - this guy must have had 5 gallons of liquid in his system. I close my eyes and try to just relax, which is hard to do when you're perched on a toilet seat in a public rest room. Damn it, this guy is taking forever. How long does it take to wash your hands? For some reason I try to peek through the cracks to see who it was I narrowly avoided contact with. Let's see. Tall, scrawny, blue scrubs hanging a little too loosely, shoe laces ready to come untied on shoes that desperately need to be washed, unruly head of dark brown hair...yep. Newbie. Well, that was a close one.

Judging by the sloping of his shoulders and the way he's

just standing there with his hands on the sink with his head down, he's not having the best of mornings either. He should try living with Medusa and the devil's spawn and see what mood that puts you in each morning. If he thinks he has it hard now...kids these days. They don't have a clue.

Even as I sit there rolling my eyes and trying not to make scauffing noises and blow my cover, an irritating thought starts to claw at my brain. Which puts me in even more of a bad mood. I talked to Carla earlier today. God love her, but I think she may have worsened my mood. Apparently she went over to Newbie's new apartment with Turk last night. Turk seems to be all happy giggly about spending time with his girlfriend, but Carla's reaction was a little different. The evening only solidified her worry that something is going on with the kid and now she seems to think I'm supposed to do something about it. Ok, so I realize I had been all "mission impossible" a few days ago with Turk, trying to extract information from Twila, but...to be honest my motivation to have a heart to heart has more or less disappeared. The thing with me is, those moments when I'm actually willing to listen to someone come very rarely, and that window of opportunity doesn't stay open for very long.

I can hear Newbie mumbling something. What the hell is he doing? He's talking to himself.

"I think I had a handful of chips at some point, didn't I? At lunch? Oh, wait. That was a couple days ago. Shoot. Ok, so maybe you have a right to hungry, but that doesn't mean you should get all pissy about it."

Scratch that, he's talking to his stomach. Terrific. I'm hiding in a bathroom stall trying to just enjoy some quiet time, meanwhile my brain has started to go to dangerous places (aka, Thinking-About-Martha-Ville), and now I get to listen to Martha talk to his damn stomach. His tiny, shrinking stomach that apparently is growling at him because he can't seem to grow enough brain to remember to feed it.

"The only person who can growl in anger around here and not sound laughably ridiculous is Dr. Cox."

What? Is that supposed to be a compliment? I don't growl _that _much do I? Oh, good lord I do. Maybe I should try to curb that...although he did say I was the only person who could pull it off...

Knock it off, Perry! Stop thinking about what Newbie thinks and what he has or has not put in his damn stomach! Did he really say he's just had a handful of chips a couple of days ago? GAH! No! Don't pay attention to him. Think about something else, something happy...hockey, my favorite jersey, the color red...

"Apple! I had an apple at lunch yesterday! Ha! I knew I was forgetting something. In your face, Mr. Grumbles!"

...red delicious apples...Damn it, Newbie! What the hell is wrong with him. Did he fall and hit his head or something? Maybe whatever he takes to ward off the crazy isn't working anymore. It's time to up the dosage, Meredith. Ok, now he's staring at himself in the mirror like he's never seen his own reflection. Why do I have the feeling I could be in here for quite some time? You know what, forget it. This is stupid. I'm leaving. I know it's risky, walking out there when there is a crazy Newbie probably just waiting to pounce and tell me all about his evening with Turk and Carla - which I've already heard about and God help me I just can't take hearing about that amount of boring again. I slowing stand up and take a step closer to the stall door.

Newbie had been whispering to himself and now he's acting like he's completely mesmerized by his own face. I wonder if I looked like that earlier. I shift my eyes to look at his reflection and I feel myself wince involuntarily. No wonder he can't turn away. He looks worse than he did yesterday. And now I'm worried. Thanks a lot, Cindy. Great, now I'm worried _and _pissed. God damn it! Why should I care if he's turning into the picture of Dorian Gray? He's a doctor. If there is something wrong he should know enough to do something about it. That is, if that something is physical. But if it's something else...something mental or emotional...

Ooookkkay. That's quite enough of that. Oh, good. He's leaving. Just in time, too because I seriously can't stand any more of this. Is it my imagination or did he just catch my eye? Great. I don't really feel like explaining why I was hiding out in the bathroom staring at him while he did his business. Hey –he's the one calling his stomach Mr. Grumbles. I don't need to explain anything! If he has a problem with me taking a break anywhere I can then he can...

Oh give it up, Perry. Stop being defensive for no reason.

I sigh and finally exit the stall and wash my hands. I don't know why, I didn't actually use the toilet. Habit I guess. I leave the bathroom and over hear Carla chastise Newbie about ignoring his multiple pages. I wonder what that's all about. God help me, I'm going to follow him. I wonder if I should talk to my counselor about this. I'm disturbing myself.

After witnessing an amusing and odd interaction between Newbie and the Janitor - after which the kid was more happy than I've seen him for weeks, I follow him to the lobby. I'm not entirely sure what I think I'm accomplishing by sneaking around after him. It's Carla's fault. She's worried about the little puke and I know that it'll somehow be twisted into being _my _fault if I don't at least find some useful information to bring back to her. She's better at this stuff. I bet if she simply asked him a couple of questions he would spill his guts. Hell, even I can't hold up long under her scrutiny.

Pay attention, Perry. He's making a move. Ok, so he's just going over to sit in some waiting room chairs with some scruffy looking guy with a nasty looking scar on his face. They seem to know each other. He's probably a homeless guy the kid befriended who's looking for a hand out or something. He hugged him I noticed. I shudder involuntarily at the thought of what urine and other DNA samples might have transferred from the homeless man onto Newbie's scrubs. Remember not to touch Newbie for the rest of the day. Suddenly I feel a little weird just standing here, half hidden behind a corner watching the pair. I need something to pretend to do...ah ha! A bulletin board of flyers just so happens to be next to me on the wall. I snatch the closest flyer, which is... "A Home for Molly: A lovable Jack Russell terrier needs a home." Bla bla bla. Who cares.

Oh shit, I think I missed something. The kid has his head in his hands and Mr. Homeless is rubbing his back. What? Maybe he had some bad news...but what would a random homeless guy have to tell Newbie that would get him that upset looking? Maybe he's not homeless.

This is pointless. I'm not getting anywhere. I can't hear a word they're saying from over here, even though they look like they're in a really intense conversation. Carla will not be happy... Wait a minute. Did I just convince myself that Carla put me up to this? I am losing my mind. Face it, Perry. This is all you.

He's on the move again. They're heading outside. Go, go, go!

"You're not planning on buying that puppy are you?"

"What?" I say distractedly to whomever it is that's talking to me. I'm watching Newbie stand outside the double glass doors talking to Scarface.

"Because I'd rethink that plan if I were you."

"Uh-huh."

No, no, no they're moving. What am I doing here? I have to get out there. Think of a reason to be out there. I need a smoke break...wait that won't work. I quit a long time ago. Someone paged me to go outside...hmmm...I can act like I think it was him and get really pissed off when he acts like he has no idea what I'm talking about.

"You'd be a terrible pet owner. That puppy would grow up resenting you and the entire male population. Because of you, that little Jack Russell would end up withdrawn and angry, with a possible drug addiction and lack of respect for authority. You should be ashamed of yourself."

What? I start to turn around while talking, "What the hell are you- oh...janitor. Don't you have an intern to torture or something?"

The janitor stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked up onto his toes.

"Nope. Fresh out."

Terrific.

I roll my eyes and am about to growl at him and walk off (growl? Oh man. I do growl too much).

"You looking for Scooter?"

"No."

"He's outside."

"I know. I saw him leave with some homeless guy."

"Oh, you mean Tim?"

I sigh and stick my hands in my lab coat pockets. I start to rock up back onto my heels when I realize how similar the janitor and I look. I roll my eyes and cross my arms across my chest instead.

"Who?"

"Tim." The janitor motions to the double glass doors, even though neither one of them are in sight. "He's not homeless. He lives in the woods."

"How do you know?"

"I talked to him. But someone like you wouldn't know anything about striking up a friendly conversation with another human being."

What is his problem? I decide to ignore his comment and he keeps talking.

"Yeah, he used to work on Wall Street making the big bucks. I had an Uncle who worked on Wall Street. While he was there they used to say 20 birds a day would kill themselves flying into the windows. He was _that_ good. Uncle Gilbert...Gil...they'll be saying things like that about me one day."

Great scepter of Zeus, the janitor is actually getting dreamy talking about his damn uncle. I twitch and swipe my hand over my nose. I'm about to open my mouth to say something witty and scathing to him, but he snaps out of it and keeps talking.

"Anyway...after he was sure he would lose his soul if he stayed there any longer, he moved to the wilderness and has been enjoying the simple life ever since."

I've forgotten who we were talking about - and no, I am _not _the least bit embarrassed by that fact. And that in no way is an indicator of my age. It's merely a testament to the off the charts bore factor that comes from talking with the janitor. What was I even doing before I started talking to Jumpsuit? Oh, yeah. Scarface. Ok, so how exactly does the almost soulless ex-suit turned frontier man know Newbie? Maybe he's an uncle or something.

"Whoa - incoming."

The janitor whispers and nods his head, motioning to something behind me. The hairs on the back of my neck aren't bristling, so it can't be Jordan. I turn around just in time to see Newbie speed walking toward us. He looks upset. Very upset. Here he comes, here he comes. Say something - something that will get him to talk to you, something nice.

"Geeze, Becky. Who died?"

Something like that. Perfect. I'm internally rolling my eyes. I managed to blurt that out just as he was about to pass by us. He pauses, ever so briefly and catches my eye just for a second. I can't even begin to describe what I saw there. I've been rendered speechless - which is impressive as that happens maybe once every 5 years. I'm going to ignore the fact that I'm pretty sure Newbie has had that effect on me more than once in this month alone.

The janitor lets out a low whistle and I realize that the kid has already moved on and has disappeared down the hallway. An unfamiliar desperate feeling creeps into the pit of my stomach. I think I've really put my foot in it this time. So this is that whole "sick with guilt" thing I've heard people whine about all my life. Oh, God. I think I'm turning into Newbie. I find myself wanting affirmation that I didn't just say the worst thing possible. So, I look to the only other person here - the janitor.

"Hey, now. Don't blame yourself. You had no way of knowing." He grins down at me - a sickening, fake, patronizing grin. He'd better turn and walk away now if he knows what's good for him. I grimace and growl as he pats me on the shoulder and waltzes off. He touched me. I can't believe he dared to touch me. I glare after him and try to convince myself that the _very _familiar sensation of burning fury coursing through my veins is directed at him.

"Oh, for God's sake." I grumble to no one in particular before throwing my hands up and heading off down the hallway to find the kid. I have no idea what I'm going to say to him when I find him. What if he's crying or something? I can't handle whimpering, snotty nosed little girls.

"Hey, Dr. Cox."

"What?" I bark at some nameless young thing in scrubs. Do I even know her?

"Yeah, hold the tone. Thanks."

Whoa, whoa, whoa. Who the hell does she think she is? I slowly turn to give her what I am quite certain is a cold, calculating, menacing look. She's on the short side. She looks to be about 22, maybe. She's cute in a "Little House on the Prairie" freckled-face sort of way. But the look in her eyes stops me mid glare. There's something in those eyes that reminds me of Jordan when we first met. Something determined, strong, and not in the least phased by my bullshit. Damn.

I'm in terrible danger of smiling wistfully off into space while picturing Jordan and I in love – before we started hating each other. Ok, so we're back to loving each other right now. But now we love each other while keeping the unfriendly banter part of the relationship fully intact. Sigh.

"I'm looking for JD."

I have to forcefully pull myself back to reality. I hate reality.

"Yeah, you and me both, sweet pants."

Sweet pants? Sometimes I surprise myself by the crap that flies out of my mouth. She raises an eyebrow, but seems quite unaffected otherwise. I'm actually thankful, because if she _is _a younger Jordan….yikes. I size her up again. Who is this person? Where are all these people coming from who know our Newbie?

Oh. My. GOD! The term "our Newbie" did not just invade my head. That's it. I've been contaminated. I need to blame someone.

"Who are you? Do I know you?"

That's right, Perry. Pour all your anger and wrath into those two questions.

"I've been working here for a year and a half. But don't worry, we've actually met. You're just a little hard to miss. And then there are the stories…"

"Stories?" For the love of sports, don't stand there acting like you're interested in what crap gets spread around the hospital about you….ok, yeah, so I am interested. Shut up. Before anyone else can do it for me, I roll my eyes at myself and change the subject.

"How do you know Carol?" Do you talk to him a lot? Has he disclosed any juicy personal information to you lately? Do you feel comfortable letting him cry on your shoulder?

She shrugs and looks like she's pretty much done with this conversation. I can count on one hand the amount of people who have been _that _unimpressed with me over the past six years.

"I met him a few weeks ago. I'm going on my smoke break. I haven't seen him in a couple of days and wanted to see if he wanted to join me."

I catch the disappointment peek through her "couldn't-care-less" demeanor before she smiles briefly at me and walks off.

"Tell him Tess was looking for him if you see him, would you? He has my Ray Lamontagne CD….plus my CD player," she calls after she gets half way down the hall.

My brain must be working in slow motion because it takes me several seconds to register what she had said to me.

"Smoke break?" What? Naaa. She just needs company. Needy women – can't do anything by themselves. Smoke break. Pffft.

My pager goes off. Oh, for the love of all that's sports related! Not now! I guess my little "heart to heart" is going to have to wait. And no, that is _not_ relief washing over me. It's no big deal. I'll ask him later. I can do this…I can talk man to girlie man…right?


	17. Chapter 16: My Rebellion

Author's Note: Hey anyone who is still reading this. I'm almost done! Yee haw! As usual, this chapter didn't turn out _exactly_ as I had planned, but that's always how it goes. It didn't end up completely off the mark though, I don't think. So I guess that's a bonus. Thank you all for your amazing reviews. I read a lot of Scrubs stories on this site, and I have been majorly slacking with reviewing the stories I read. I'm sorry! I'll try to do better. Anyway, knowing how much easier it is for slackers like me to simply read a story and think "wow, that was really well done" but not bother to review - the reviews I've gotten are all the more significant and appreciated. So, thank you all again! I hope you enjoy this chapter.

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**Disclaimer: I own nothing **

**JD's POV **

**_Flashbacks in italics_ **

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I yelled at Dr. Kelso. Oh my God. I yelled at Dr. Kelso. I _cried_ in front of Dr. Kelso. Shit shit shit shit SHIT! A wet sounding burst of laughter clatters out of my lungs and into the air. I yelled at Dr. Kelso. I can't believe this! He's going to fire me. He's going to fire my ass and tell everyone I'm a cry baby and then Dr. Cox will laugh at me and call me a little girl and the janitor will put up posters about how much of a drama queen I am.

Breathe. Just breathe. It's fine. It doesn't matter. You can find work anywhere, right? You're a doctor. I could go where ever I want! I've always wanted to live in Seattle...or maybe I can check out the east coast. Oh! New York! I could work in The Big Apple! But, I don't know anyone there. All my friends are here. Maybe they can come with me! It could be a big adventure.

AH! Get a grip. I haven't been fired...yet. I don't need to plan a major move that involves dragging my friends across the country. Okay. Breathe. In and out, in and out. That's it. God! I'm such a LOSER! I can hear Kelso in his office. He's on the phone with someone, I think. I wonder if he's already getting the word out to replace me. Jesus. I should have just gone outside, had a smoke, got myself under control, and _then _asked him for Wednesday off. But, no! Not good, not good, not good. And why is my brain repeating every damn thing that pops into it?! GAH! This is fucking ridiculous. I can't just pace around outside Dr. Kelso's office - people will see me! I have to...I have do something. I have to go outside. I have to...I can't...I...AH! I can't be here. I'm no good like this. I have to leave.

Decision made. I start my frenzied march out of the hospital. If I just keep my head down I won't have to look anyone in the eye and I won't have to explain myself. I'll just call Carla when I get outside and give her some excuse why I-

"Oooph!"

Or I'll just run into people like a drunken midget.

"Newbie - God damn it!"

"Shit. Sorry, Dr. Cox."

Of all the people to careen into. I'm cursed. Just keep going. Don't let him keep you here!

"Hey! Priscilla! Where the hell do you think you're going?!"

Don't look. Keep going.

"HEY!"

He grabs me by my shoulders and whips me around. I don't want to face anyone, let alone _him_ - but I can't help it. I'm _not _in the mood for his bullying. So I look up at him and violently shake his hands off my arms.

"WHAT?!"

I yell in his face. I feel like he must feel half the time. Furious. Boiling. Like I'm made of molten lava. I feel...dangerous.

He actually closes his mouth, and I want to say he flinched. HA! I made Dr. Cox flinch! Take that beaaatch!

"Jesus," he breathed. He stares at me for a moment. He looks stricken, like his mother just turned into a grotesque monster in front of his face. It's then that I remember that I probably look crazy. Not only is my face contorted in anger, but it's most likely still red and puffy from crying. I might even still _be _crying for all I know. Am I? No. The tears have stopped. For now. "Jesus." He repeats.

I roll my eyes and give him my best cocky smirk. "No, not quite - but I hear Lavern knows the guy pretty well. Maybe she'll introduce you." He blinks a few times and my patience has officially run out. I'm trying to get out of this damn place so I can freak out in private, not stand around the hallway waiting for Mr. Coherent to remember how to form a complete sentence. "Excuse me."

I start to turn away when he finally finds the language section of his brain.

"I asked you a question."

He did? When?

"Where the hell do you think you're going?"

Oh, _that _question.

"Home." It sounds more like a sigh of relief than a word.

It appears he's lost his voice again, so I turn and leave. I can hear him jog up beside me. Why won't he just go away? This must be how it feels to him every time he tries to shake me and I chase after him all the time. God, I'm annoying. I consider ignoring him, but I have a feeling he's going to be persistent, so after several paces I stop and sigh. He's not saying anything. I rub my hand over my face and turn to look at him.

"Let me say this slowly. I. Am. Going. Home. I'm sorry - I know this is going to mess people up since it's early in the day, but I won't be of any use if I stay here and I _need_ to leave. I'm taking Wednesday off, too. I don't know if Kelso is going to approve it or not, but I _am_ taking it off. Even if that means Tuesday is my last day. I'm sorry if all my work gets dumped on you, but I'm leaving. Now. So...um...bye."

I started off strong, too bad my speech had kind of a weak finish. Oh, well. I guess I need to work on my "end of discussion" speech giving techniques. Once again I turn and walk away. This time Dr. Cox, who remained silent, does not follow me. At least it was effective even if it wasn't the most eloquent speech ever given. I would _love_ to feel triumphant right now, but I still feel too close to hysterics to enjoy this moment.

What the hell is wrong with me, "enjoy this moment"? God! There is nothing about this moment that I should glean any enjoyment from! Am I mental? I feel sick and like I'm about to topple over that emotional cliff I'm standing on. If I can just make it home…

My feet remember that I need to stop by my locker, and my hands remember to grab Tess' CD player and my jacket. At some point I started crying again. I'm such a fucking mess. I've never felt this close to losing it. My eyes are stinging. It feels like someone has reached past my rib cage and is squeezing my lungs and heart with both hands and I'm trembling all over. My movements feel wild and uncontrolled. I can't believe I managed talk to Dr. Cox without snapping and screaming my head off until security came to subdue me. Just in case though, I hope I can get out that door without anyone else trying to talk to me.

I decide to use the "duck and charge" method for my exit. Running would draw too much unwanted attention, so I just walk as fast as I can. If I can make it past the nurse's station then I-

"Hey, Bambi...Bambi? Lavern is he ignoring me?"

"Mmm Hmmm."

Shit, shit, shit! Not now Carla. My heart twinges with guilt for ignoring her, but I'll freak her out if I actually turn to say anything to her. It's best to keep going. I can hear what sounds like Dr. Cox talking in a low voice to her. I get this goofy mental image of Carla standing at the nurse's station looking after my retreating form with a hurt and confused expression on her face. Just as she's about to call out to me, Dr. Cox appears next to her, silently puts his hand on her shoulder, and shakes his head solemnly. I know I'm going to hear about this later. Maybe today will be my last day if Kelso finds out about this…which he probably will. Shit. What the hell am I going to do?! I'm ruining everything! I feel like my life is falling apart.

The fresh air hits me as I finally make it out the door. It makes me feel _slightly_ more grounded, but only slightly. I still feel like I'm about to lose my mind at any second. It occurs to me that I didn't even react this strongly when my own dad died, let alone an almost perfect stranger. An almost perfect stranger that I feel like I killed with my own bare hands. Gary. A man with a wife and daughter...a family, friends, and a future.

NO! I _don't _want to think about this right now. I want to...I want to...smoke. My shaky hands are fumbling with my jacket, trying to pull my pack out of the pocket while I wind my way around the building, looking for "Tess' exit". My eyes are starting to fill up again. Damn it! I finally dig my cigarettes out of my pocket when I round a corner and notice that I found the exit platform I was looking for - just in time to see Tess heading back inside. A completely illogical panic wells up in my stomach and for a second I am scared that I'm going to do something girly like call out, "Tess! I need you!" To my extreme relief, and for reasons I can't explain, she stops on her own and turns to see me standing here - frozen in my fear that I was going to miss her. Maybe I did yell something out loud and just didn't realize it? I don't think so, though. She stands in front of the door and stares at me. She's too far away for me to be able to read the look on her face.

I forget that she has no idea what has happened to me over the past month. I forget that I haven't actually talked with her about any of it and that she didn't know about the news I just received. Something inside me snaps and my legs stumble awkwardly forward towards her. My aim is singular - get to Tess so she can help you. She must have seen the crazed desperation in my face (that I should be embarrassed about), because she moves to meet me. She makes it down the steps and onto the pavement just as I reach the steps. Her eyebrows are drawn together and an almost tangible concern is pouring out of her. Maybe it's not. Maybe I just want it to be. I know that I barely know her and that I should be doing this with Turk, or Elliot, or Carla. I know that this might freak her out and make me seem clingy, but right now none of those things matter. I hesitate for only a second before catching her in a suffocating, needy hug. She returns it instantly. My knees are wobbling and somewhere in the back of my mind I wonder if they'll hold up. Neither one of us says anything. I need this. I _NEED _this. Oh, God. Please don't let go, Tess. Please don't reject me.

I can feel the tears sliding down my face and I'm shaking. She holds on tight. One of her hands moves to the back of my head and starts to move in comforting circles. She's going to need to breathe at some point. I know that...but I can't seem to let go. Why is this so hard? My breath is hitching in my throat as I try to sob without those embarrassing noises. I have no idea how long we stand like this. By the time I finally decide to allow her to breathe and pull away, I can tell my face is red and blotchy and my head is pounding. I'm so afraid to look her in the eye, so I stare at my shoes and wipe my eyes.

"I need a smoke." I finally blurt out. My voice cracks. I hear her laugh through her nose and we sit on the steps behind us. We both light up, staring straight ahead. I feel her hand reach mine and we link fingers. I glance down at our joined hands and see a tear splash onto them. I guess I'm not all out of tears yet. My eyes slowly rise to look at Tess. She's still looking ahead. Tess glances at me, smiles warmly, and then bumps my shoulder with her own. I smile and we both go back to staring straight ahead, smoking.

"Are you ever going to give me my CD and CD player back?"

I snort. "I'll give it back as long as you promise to keep quiet about this."

I can _feel_ her laugh more than hear it.

"I have a reputation to uphold."

She picks her head up and looks at me with her eyebrow raised.

"Yeah, I actually have heard a little bit about that reputation. I can safely say that you're all set there."

I pretend to be offended for a second before smiling and letting the comment go. Instead I wordlessly take her CD player out of my bag and hand it to her.

"I'll take this as a sign of trust."

Her tone is light, but suddenly a wave of seriousness washes over me. I turn to look at her. It takes her a few seconds before she realizes I'm looking at her and she meets my eyes.

"I _do_ trust you."

Tess squeezes my hand and moves a stray strand of hair and tucks it behind my ear.

"Good. Because you can."

I smile at her and feel my eyes flutter closed at her touch. I wonder if I should just spill my guts right here and now to her. I remember that she was about to get back to work when I practically tackled her, so she wouldn't have that kind of time left to listen to the whole story. There's something else that's keeping me from telling her right this minute. As much as I do trust her and I know that she wouldn't run away if I told her all about what's been happening – I feel like I owe it to my friends to share it with them first. I know that at some point I'm going to have to give up this idiotic grudge I have against them for not listening to me when I first got back from my "vacation". Something tells me that it's going to have to happen sooner rather than later given today's events.

I finally open my eyes to see Tess has gone back to looking straight ahead. We sit in silence again for a bit, smoking.

"You met me at a very strange time in my life." I say suddenly.

I know Tess is smirking, even though I'm not looking at her.

"If the all major credit cards' offices explode later...I'll know who was responsible."

"What?"

"Nothing."

* * *

I'm alone again. Eventually Tess had to go back to work, and I made my way home. She managed to keep a smile on my face the whole way here...until I closed the door behind me. Something about the sound of the door latching behind me, the dim light of the room, the hasty "curtains" on the window, the absolute lack of anything personal in my apartment, and the horrible silence...it made all those emotions come flooding back...and all the memories. As I slid down the door and sat on the floor with my knees pulled up to my chest, my mind began to reply today events. 

I saw behind my closed eyes, Tim standing in the lobby of the hospital. I felt the feelings of relief and joy at seeing him again, the vulnerability in being face to face with another "victim" of the hold-up, the fear that he might be here for some specific reason other than just to say "hi". I felt that easy connection we had back at that truck stop that made talking with him so comfortable before all hell broke loose. I saw the look in his eyes that sent my heart into my throat and flashing warning signs in my head right before he gave me the news. I heard the regret in his voice when he told me.

* * *

_"I went to visit Gary yesterday."_

_"Yeah? How was he? Any change?"_

_"Not at first...but yeah. Yeah, there was a change."_

_"What? What happened?"_

_"JD, Gary passed away last night. A little after 5:00. His family wanted you to know and I told them that I would come here to tell you in person. I'm so sorry." _

_

* * *

_

I lean my head back against the door and cover my face as fresh tears streak down my face. Why is this happening?! WHY?! The scene continues to play in my head. I remember not being able to hold it in and crying right there in the lobby. No one I knew was around, and I was so thankful that I didn't have to worry about getting caught weeping in the hospital. I can still feel the guilt that clutched at my stomach as I leaned forward, letting Tim rub my back and whisper encouraging words in my ear. My sobbing gets louder and a strangled cry rips from my throat. I hit my head lightly on the door behind me. Damn it, this isn't fair! Tim almost died in that truck stop and he was the one comforting me. I'm not the one who lost a father or a spouse, and I'm crying my eyes out! Gary would never have been hurt in the first place, and would be going on a cruise with his wife for their anniversary if I had listened to John in the first place. And now, everything's a mess. Nothing is right. Nothing's okay. And it's all my fault. It's only a matter of time before everyone knows about it. I already let too much slip to Dr. Kelso.

Shit. Dr. Kelso. I yelled at him. I can't believe the scene I made.

* * *

_"Excuse me, Dr. Kelso...sir?"_

_I knock tentatively on the doorframe of his office. The door is open. I can see Kelso sitting at his desk. He looks busy and irritated. He's not in the right mood for me to ask for time off. But I have to do it._

_"Don't just stand there wringing your hands and gnashing you teeth, Sport. What do you want?"_

_I slowly walk into his office, closing the door behind me. That got his attention and he looked up at me with one eyebrow raised, obviously curious about what I was going to talk to him about that necessitated closing the door. He sat up and folded his hands in front of him, feigning interest._

_"I, um...I..." I cleared my throat...stalling, really._

_"Oh, for God's sake - spit it out."_

_Right._

_"I need to take Wednesday off...please...sir."_

_He looked thoughtful for a second before leaning forward again to return to his work._

_"No."_

_It was clear by his body language that he thought the conversation was over. As for me, I was still standing in front of him with my fists clenched, trying to stop my eyes from watering again. I cleared my throat again and prepared to state my case._

_"Sir, I-"_

_"I believe I have already answered your question. Now, if you will excuse me, Dr. Dorian..."_

_This time the tears spilled over, I couldn't help it. My gut was burning with panic and I had to clench my fists tightly so I could feel my nails dig into my palms to keep from falling apart completely. God, I'm such a girl._

_"I know, but sir - please hear me out. There's a very good reason why I'm asking for that day off. I-"_

_"Was there a death in the family?"_

_"No." Not _my_ family._

_"Are _you _dying?"_

_"No." Only on the inside._

_"Have you asked anyone else to cover your shift?"_

_"No." God damn it! I'm shaking now. Now I'm angry and panicked. The old man starts to speak again, but this time I cut him off._

_"LISTEN!"_

_He looks stunned. I know it won't last long, so I press on before he regains his composure._

_"I _NEED _to take Wednesday off. It's not a want, or a suggestion, or a request. It. Is. A. Need. Are you going to give it to me or not?"_

_Dr. Kelso stood up. God help me, I know I tower over him but he still scares the bejesus out of me. Keep going, JD. Use your anger!_

_"Dr. Dorian-"_

_"I said listen." I'm seething at this point. I don't care that I had asked him a question, and therefore I gave him the right to start talking. My clenched fists are shaking, I'm still crying, and I'm clenching my teeth together so hard that the words came out as more of a hiss. He listens. _

_"Maybe I wasn't clear earlier. Allow me to clarify. I am taking Wednesday off. You can either give it to me, or fire me. Either way, I'm not coming in that day...and hell, I might even take Thursday off, too. Just because. Since I am still aware that you are the director of medicine here, and that makes you my boss - I'll give you an explanation."_

_Kelso subconsciously raises his chin as I say this, as though the very sound of his title makes him want to fan his peacock feathers in pride. I notice that his hands are folded in front of him again. I think he might actually be listening._

_"I am taking Wednesday off because I am going to a funeral. It's not a funeral for a family member, or an old friend, or colleague. It's the funeral of a man who is dead because of me. And before you whistle for Ted, no, he was not a patient. I am taking Wednesday off, Dr. Kelso because I need to pay my respects." I'm winding down. The anger is dissipating and the engulfing sadness is taking its place. Saying it out loud is making it all the more real for me. The tears are coming faster. "It's the least I can do." _

_The last sentence is almost a whisper, and I'm humiliated at how pathetic and weak I sound. I take a few shaky breaths, trying to calm myself down. I rub my face and collapse into the chair across from his desk. The tears stop, thank God. Dr. Kelso has remained silent. He's probably in shock._

_Suddenly I can't be in this room any more. I said too much. Waaay too much. I acted like an idiot and yelled at the freaking chief of medicine! I stand up suddenly, the movement makes me feel nauseous._

_"Sorry, sir. I...that was...I'm so sorry."_

_And with that blubbering display of angst, I fled the room. Who know victory would taste like bile._

* * *

I'm screwed. I know I am. And now I'm back in my dismal apartment having left the hospital without permission. Yep. I'm screwed. It doesn't matter anyway. It's all over. Gary's gone and I'm still here when it was supposed to have been me. 

"IT WAS SUPPOSED TO HAVE BEEN ME!" I yell at the ceiling. My fists slam into the floor. "Do you hear that, John? Huh?! You got the wrong guy you stupid fuck! You horrible shot, you miserable person, you twisted piece of SHIT!"

I start to sob again. My outburst has only made me feel worse. I want to apologize to the man, but I know it's stupid. He's dead. They're both dead. And it's all my fault. I wait for my breathing to return to normal after sobbing session #100. Without even thinking about it, my hand (which is still shaking) works it's way into my pants pocket and pulls out a crumples piece of paper that has been folded and unfolded dozens of times. I sniff and wipe my face with my sleeve as I unfold it one more time, and begin to read the letter that has been haunting me from the moment it fell out of my wallet.

_Dear Dr. Dorian,_

_By the time you get this, I'll be dead. I know, that's so typical, right? So cliché...sorry. I just didn't know how else to start this letter. At this point I'm not even sure why I'm writing this. Did you notice I wrote your name? Yeah, I guess it shouldn't be a big mystery how I knew it since I stole your wallet. I stole everyone's wallets. As I write this I am sitting in the car I stole - your rental car - on the side of a back road somewhere. When you find this (if you find this), you would have already figured out that I gave your stuff back. For some reason, I really want you to know that I'm giving everyone's stuff back. Wallets, cell phones...everything. I just can't do it anymore. I didn't even take any cash or credit cards. I don't know if you believe me. Why should you? Maybe you'll believe me once you find out that I'm dead. What's a dead guy need with a wad of cash and strangers' credit cards? Can't take it with you, right?_

_Sorry if this is messy. My hands are shaking pretty badly. I have so much I want to write down, but I don't know how far I'll get before I have to leave. I guess first of all, I wanted to say I'm sorry. I know it's lame and it's too late, but I have to say it anyway. I never thought I would do anything like what I did. I've always been a good kid, a good guy. I had never even held a gun before! But, I suppose that was obvious enough. I wasn't even sure there were bullets in it. I grabbed it from my brother's nightstand. I was just so desperate, I didn't know what else to do! In the end, it got me nowhere. Well, that's not entirely true. It got me here - with a stolen car, a bunch of wallets, writing a letter to someone I don't know because I'm about to kill myself._

_I was going to explain why I was there that day... but I doubt it would matter. Not to you, or those guys in the hospital, or the rest of the people there. I'm not exactly sure why I chose to write to you. I guess I just thought you would actually read this. Maybe you'd even understand. You seemed like such a nice guy. I'm sorry this happened to you. I'm sorry I held a gun to your head. I'm sorry I yelled at you. I'm sorry I tried to shoot you just because you were trying to help that man on the floor...having a heart attack I guess. I wonder if he lived. I wonder if the one that got shot...that I shot lived. You probably know. You seem like the kind of guy who would check up on them. The kind of guy who takes care of people. I hope you're okay and that you have moved on from what happened. I hope I didn't scar you too badly._

_I guess now would be as good a time as any to say thank you for everything you did or tried to do. It was so crazy in there...I was not thinking clearly...obviously. I know you were making sense. I know I should have listened to you. But I can't change that now. I can't take back my choices or the things that lead me to them. Which is why I'm killing myself. I can't help those men who landed in the hospital because of me. I can't fix all the people who might be traumatized for life now. I can't bring my girlfriend back, or collect the ransom money I needed...but that doesn't matter. You don't know about all of that. All I wanted was to save her and I failed. So now I have the guilt of her death on my shoulders, along with the guilt of what I did that day. It doesn't matter anymore. _

_I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. So sorry. Please forgive me, Dr. Dorian. Please. Please forgive me._

_John_

I crumple the letter up again and let it fall from my hands onto the floor. I've read it over and over. I practically have it memorized. I feel numb. The skin on my face is tight from the salty tears and I need to blow my nose. I guess that means I have to get up and move. The floor isn't exactly comfy, but I seem to have drained myself of all energy from my semi-break down. Maybe it wasn't the semi-break down that has drained me. Maybe it's life. Maybe it's the fact that I've pushed everyone away from me and isolated myself from the world.

_"I'd rather be alone than let down."_

I close my eyes and sigh. My arms drop uselessly to the floor and my legs stretch out lazily in front of me. I listen to the sound of my breathing, slow and steady, and sit in the darkness I created for myself. As weariness and exhaustion begin to take hold and sleep starts to tug at my consciousness, a clear thought appears in my mind. I had been clinging to the thread of hope that Gary would pull through this and eventually wake up and go back to his family. Today I found out he didn't make it. Today that thread broke, and that last bit of hope I had left...vanished.


	18. Chapter 17: My Softer Side

**Disclaimer: I don't own this show, or the characters...duh.**

**Dr. Cox's POV **

**

* * *

**

**Later that day... **

I can't believe I'm doing this. I refuse to give in to the idea that I have become one of them...one of Julianne and her brat pack. I shudder at the very thought. No! I am _not _like them. I'm not hurrying over his apartment out of some kind of misguided concern for his well being. I'm driving over there right now because I'm going to give him a piece of my mind - and when I say "piece" it's because I know that scrawny twit can't handle the whole thing. I'm definitely _not _worried about the kid. It's not like the look on his face when I blurted out "Who died?" at him in the lobby is haunting me or anything. Just because it looks as though he's absolutely falling apart at the seams, and that most likely something really huge has just happened - doesn't mean that I want to make sure he's okay or something girlie like that.

"Oh for God's sake. Who am I kidding?" I clutch the steering wheel and glance at Carla's directions next to me on the seat. I know damn well that I'm worried. God help me. I've never seen him that upset…which is saying a lot considering the kid has always let every emotion show so plainly on his face that it's sickening. He never leaves anything up to guesswork...or at least he didn't...before. Before what though?

"Well that's the question, isn't it genius?"

And I'm talking to myself. Fabulous.

It's his own damn fault anyway. If he hadn't started walking around looking like a zombie half the time and working like a fiend the other half, I wouldn't have thought that something was up. If he had just continued on with his goofy daydreams, ridiculous hyperactivity, and chipper attitude we wouldn't be having this problem. _I _wouldn't be having this problem. Well, that's not entirely true. If that was all it was, a bit of sudden mellowing out, I might have been curious - but I would have gotten over it. There have been other things - hints here and there to a bigger issue than a natural mellowing out.

Today just topped it all off - in a rather dramatic fashion, I might add. The stupid kid had to look at me with those stupid eyes and that stupid look on his stupid face - and damned if I couldn't even form words properly after that. It's not like I've never seen anyone cry or upset before. I just never thought I'd see that expression on _his _face...not before all these bizarre changes started, anyway. There have been more than one of those moments with him recently and it's starting to really unnerve me. I can't have that little snot rendering me speechless on a regular basis! That's not how it works.

This is not helping. I can't waltz in there and rip him a new one if I start dwelling on his watery eyes. Remember - you are pissed! The kid had the gall to walk out of the hospital today. Just walked out! He didn't get permission from me or Bob-o, and he left me to cover his patients! Ok, so today didn't actually turn out to be _that_ bad. I've had worse days even when we were over staffed, but he doesn't know that. It's the principal of the thing. Kids...I swear. Just when I thought he was finally developing a decent work ethic he had to go and pull something like that.

There was one shiny moment in all of this, though: Newbie managed to completely undo Kelso. Right after my highly enjoyable interaction with Sheila, Kelso came out of his office, bellowing for me to "get my ass" in there. I would have been pissed at him and told him off right then and there if the sight of him looking very much befuddled wasn't so hilarious. I could tell he wasn't sharing every piece of information possible, but I got the basic gist. Newbie actually had the balls to yell at Bob-o. _Yell!_ I mean, hell...I've given that useless piece of shit some pretty terrific rants and I'm quite sure I have raised my voice - but yelling? It was pretty clear that he hadn't been able to react the way he wanted to with the kid, so instead he was taking it out on me. I actually sat there and listened to it! What can I say, I almost felt bad for the guy. He was reamed into by the meekest doctor in the joint. Okay...that's just...funny.

Anyway, so I got the usual speech about controlling my residents and bla bla bla. He informed me that he was giving Dr. Dorian the day off on Wednesday and that I would be covering for him, but that he would be "keeping a sharp eye out" for any kind of misconduct or insubordination. I pretended to be all mad and crap, really just because we have a comfortable routine that I don't feel like breaking. He mumbled something about drama, a box of kleenex, and murderous employees that I didn't follow. I left his office with the old man sitting at his desk, still mumbling with his head resting in his hand. I think he might be losing it.

I have to shake my head to get my concentration back. Images of an intimidating Newbie towering over Kelso and yelling at him with spit flying out of his mouth are distracting me. That could make me down right happy if I thought about it for long enough. Right now I need to get the anger back. Bad, Newbie, bad! Damn it, it's not working. Think of something that pisses you off. Barbie's shrill voice when she's worked up about something, Nervous Guy accidentally bagging the lady who was taking a nap in room 302 before being discharged, Hugh Jackman, people who think the internet dancing baby was "cute". Ooookay. This is good. I'm getting a little steamed...keep going with this...what else? Uh, the kid gave you some serious attitude today right before you left. That should piss you off, Perry...but his face when he was giving you attitude...no! Don't think of his face!

Too late. I sigh as I pull up to his apartment complex. I look up at the building as though looking at it from the outside could somehow tell me if the kid's inside. I guess this is the place. Carla's pretty good at directions, so...it must be it. It's not in the best neighborhood ever known to man, but not bad I guess. I haven't gotten out of the car yet. I honestly have no idea what I'm supposed to say to him if he's here. Rolling my eyes and grumbling to myself, I step out of the car. I can see Newbie's scooter parked in the apartment parking lot. It looks like he's here. I wonder if Scarface is in there with him. Part of me hopes he is. I think this little visit would be a heck of a lot quicker if he was otherwise engaged.

Well, I'm not going to find out if I keep standing around here.

I take some determined looking steps towards the complex. Not that anyone could tell by looking at me, but my inner determination seems to be dwindling with every step. I set my jaw firmly and clench my fists, as though that would somehow do the trick. The truth is, I can't remember the last time I felt this nervous. I'm not even sure I can pinpoint exactly why I'm feeling this way. What's there to be nervous about? If I'm just planning on walking in there, pounding on the kid's door, and giving him a good and proper rant that will make him feel about 3 inches tall - then there's nothing to worry about, right? That's what I do best - ripping into people. I don't even have to be fully awake to be able to do that.

I've made it to the outside door, which is locked. Stupid apartment buildings. I left Carla's directions in the car. What the hell did she say his apartment number is? I scan the list of names next to the buzzer buttons and I don't see anything that resembles John Dorian. Damn it. I suppose I could just hit one of the buttons and get anyone to let me in. Of course, then I still wouldn't know which door to pound on.

While I'm contemplating this, a woman carrying the tiniest dog I've ever seen opens the door. I guess she's taking the "rat dog" for a walk. Perfect. I smile at her and try not to look like some thieving scoundrel trying to break into her apartment building. I hold the door for her to go by and then I slip in behind her. Okay. I'm in. Now what?

The madly shrill ring of my cell phone makes me jump. Not that I would ever admit to anyone that it was possible to catch me off guard. It's Carla. That's kind of...perfect actually. But of course, I know that I'm not going to let it show that I am glad she called.

"What?" I bark into the tiny phone.

"Did you make it there okay? How is he? Is he telling you anything?"

I wince and pull the phone away from my ear. Good lord, woman! I should start slipping her Adavan to calm her the hell down.

"Carla - breathe. I just got into the building. I haven't even gone to his apartment yet. And I wouldn't get your hopes up about the kid pouring his heart out to me since I'm only here to-"

"Drop the act, Perry. It's me. I know why you're there."

Oh. Oh, yeah. I forgot she reads minds even from miles away. I roll my eyes and look at the phone like it has offended me in some way.

"Don't roll your eyes at me."

Damn!

"Sorry."

I can hear her sigh on the other end like she's trying to be patient with a 5 year old. Am I really that bad? Damn these strong women.

"That's okay. Listen, Perry. It's apartment 16. Just be...gentle. Don't be yourself."

What? Why that little-

"He respects you, Perry. He'll listen to you. Just make sure that you listen to him, okay? I'll head over there when I get off in a couple of hours. Are you going to be there?"

I sigh and run a hand over my face.

"I don't know."

Well, it's not like I can know the answer to that question.

"Okay. Well...I'll talk to you later. Call if you leave before I get there, okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

"Thanks, Perry."

I roll my eyes again.

"For what?"

"For being there for him."

Shit.

"Yeah, whatever."

"Bye."

"Bye."

I flip the phone closed and stuff it in my pocket. I stare up at the ceiling for a moment. I feel like swearing very, very loudly. What the hell was that? He respects me? He listens to me? Well, if he listens to me so well, why the hell doesn't he do what I tell him to do? I kick at some clump of dirt on the floor. She expects me to listen to him? I can't promise I am physically capable of doing that without punching something simultaneously. If he starts whining about something insignificant and girlie, I can't be held responsible for my actions.

"Damn it, Newbie." I mumble to myself as I climb the staircase to the next level.

Thanks for being there for him? Was she kidding? I'm not "there" for people! I'm there for me. I'm there to keep people in line, to make sure they aren't under the delusion that they mean something. How exactly am I supposed to "be there" for him?

That horrible nervous feeling is clawing at my stomach again. So that's why I'm nervous. If he's still in the same frame of mind he was in earlier...well, I just don't know how to handle that. It occurs to me that I have absolutely no idea what's been bothering the kid lately. Not to mention whatever it was that set him off this morning. What am I getting myself into? This is crazy. I can't do this! Who am I kidding? I am not that guy. What if he tries to hug me or something? I can't have him snotting all over my shirt. I'd probably throw him into the wall! And while I don't normally think there is anything wrong with throwing girlie men into walls provoked or otherwise...even I can admit that would probably not be the best way to handle that particular brand of situation.

I'm outside his door now. Oh my God. I can't do this. What the hell?! My hand takes my cell phone out without my brain's consent and I blindly find Carla's number. My finger hovers over the "send" button. It actually shakes a little. That does it. I'm not going to let this kid get to me this so much that my hands shake. That's bullshit! I don't need Carla's help with this. I flip the phone closed again and angrily shove it back into my pocket again. I take a deep breath and lift a fist to the door. It shakes. I squeeze it harder and growl lowly in my throat. My own hands are betraying me! It drops down uselessly at my side.

"Damn it." I hiss as I spin around, folding my hands on the back of my head. I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth a couple of times. I can feel myself getting irritated and while earlier I thought that was the best way to approach this - now I'm quite sure that will only make things worse. Maybe I'll just, uh...feel things out. I turn back around to face the door and drop my arms back down to my sides. Pressing an ear lightly to the door, I listen for any noises coming from the apartment. I stand there for a little bit. There might be a radio on or something, because I think I hear some music playing softly. I don't hear any other voices, so I'm guessing Scarface isn't there. I'm not sure if I'm relieved about that, or if it's making me even more nervous. On one hand, if he has someone else there he doesn't really need me. On the other hand, if no one else is there then there won't be any witnesses to Perry Cox attempting to "be there" for another human being.

I'm such a coward. This is ridiculous. I'm stronger than this. How hard can it be? Carla said I just had to listen, right? Okay. No problem. He'll prattle on as usual, and I'll just sit there and listen. I don't have to say anything encouraging or comforting. And who said hugging was part of the agreement? No one! I'm off the hook. Okay. Now that everything's clear...

I take a deep breath and raise my fist to the door again. I hesitate for a brief moment before knocking three times. Okay. Not bad. Three forceful raps on the door - they didn't sound too angry did they? No answer. I shift on my feet and I can feel my nose twitch in annoyance. I give a small huff and I'm about to knock again when I hear the lock slide and click. Panic! Suddenly I'm wondering what expression I'm supposed to have on my face when he opens the door, assuming of course that he was _un_locking the door. In a split second I try out some looks: angry, shocked, sympathetic, disapproving. When the doorknob turns and the door opens slowly, I couldn't be sure what look I finally went with.

Newbie is standing in the doorway. He looks unimpressed, not in the least surprised, and not in any way happy to see me. Disturbingly, I actually feel hurt by this. I blink and ignore the unfamiliar feeling and pretend that it doesn't mean anything. Whatever. He still worships me. No worries.

No one is talking. We're just staring at each other. He has no real reaction to my presence. Just...blank. He looks like he either just woke up or that he hasn't slept in days. Maybe both. I can hear music playing in his apartment. The sound distracts me and my eyes finally slide off of his exhausted and empty face and past the door. The spell is broken. I clear my throat, but I have no idea what to say. Luckily, I don't have to say anything. He drops his head and steps away from the door, opening it more - wordlessly telling me I can come in.

I raise my eyebrows at him in some kind of greeting and take a long step past him, into his new place. He sniffs and closes the door behind him.

"Nice place, Cassandra."

He doesn't say anything. I feel him move somewhere behind me, but I don't bother to turn around. I quickly scan the room. There isn't much to say about it. It looks like a pretty typical apartment. Surprisingly it looks more like a bachelor pad then the feminine dwelling I would have pictured. Actually, there is nothing here that looks like his. No stupid stuffed dog. No Gilmore Girls posters or flowery potpourri or scented candles. I notice the towel tacked up on the window as a curtain and the mattress lying on the floor for a bed. There really isn't anything in here. How depressing.

"Love the curtains. I have to say, I was expecting more of a feminine touch, something more along the lines of Martha Stewart...but..."

I let my voice trail off. So far I haven't gotten any reaction of any kind out of the kid. This is going to be even harder than I thought. Since I was pretty much panicking thinking about this...yeah. I let the awkward silence swirl around us. Maybe it's just awkward for me...and here I thought he was the one who couldn't stand the quiet. I almost snort at the thought. A glance at Newbie tells me he's not completely at ease with this, either. He's currently just standing there, looking at the floor.

The only sound is whatever music he has playing quietly. I spot a small, ancient looking CD/tape player sitting on the floor against the wall. He must have gotten that in junior high. The music is kind of soothing, actually. Acoustic, mellow...sad. It seems to fit the mood. The song ends and at first I think another one starts, but it sounds suspiciously like the same song is starting over. I frown. Oh, for heaven's sake. He hasn't been sitting around, moping, listening to the same depressing song all day has he? He _is_ a girl.

For no reason, I clear my throat again and look around some more. Not that there is anything to look at. There is a crumpled piece of paper on the floor by the door. It seems odd and out of place in a nearly empty room. I kind of want to pick it up and throw it away, but I don't know where the trashcan is. I think it would be too intrusive anyway. Instead I stick my hands in my pockets in a way that I hope doesn't look like I don't know what to do with myself. I turn to look at the kid. He must sense that I'm watching him because he looks up, letting his eyes flick over mine briefly. Letting out a small sigh, he walks into the kitchen area and calls back over his shoulder to me.

"Do you want water? I don't have anything else to drink." I think he adds, "or eat" but I can't be sure. I barely recognize his voice. It sounds so...dead. He fishes a glass out of a cupboard and pours water into it. Once he's back in the living room he holds it out to me, looking me right in the eye. I'm too startled by the hardness I see in his eyes to answer, so I just take the glass without saying anything. He turns takes a few steps away from me. Not knowing what else to do with myself, I take a sip of the water. If I had been thinking, I would have refused it - but now I'm actually thankful I have it. It gives me something else to focus on.

He's back in the kitchen, picking something up off the counter. My mind doesn't register what it is, even as he walks back out into the room with it in his hands. It's not until I hear the recognizable sound of a lighter flicking into a flame, and smell the scent of a cigarette freshly lit that my brain finally turns on. Oh. My. God. Newbie is smoking! Inside I am so incredibly shocked and confused that I think I might blow a fuse. Paradigms are shifting! Somehow I manage to appear casual and unaffected.

"So, Cassandra. You smoke now."

He blows out a thin stream of smoke and looks me in the eye. He has that same hardened look, but given this context it seems like he's challenging me somehow. Maybe it's more of an indifference? Damn it. I used to be so good at reading him...well, reading everybody really. Am I losing my touch or has he figured out a way to throw me off? Or both.

"How long?"

I sound irritated and disgusted. I hold my breath, hoping my tone doesn't set something off in him. Apparently I didn't need to worry because he just shrugs and looks kind of bored.

"Couple weeks."

"Oh, that's terrific, Martha. Just brilliant. So now you aren't only a total lazy ass, dip-shit who leaves work for no reason, dumping your work load into my lap - but a hypocrite to boot."

Oops. I thought I had talked myself out of giving him an angry speech. Damn it, I couldn't help myself. It's his fault. He's smoking! He just nods like he had been expecting my little outburst. Of course he was expecting it, who am I kidding? That's who I am.

"Sorry." He says it quietly and I can't tell by the tone if he means it or not. I can't look in his eyes to find out either, because he's turning away and walking over to the door. Shit. He's going to ask me to leave and the only thing I've accomplished is calling him names and finding out he has a smoking habit now. SMOKING! Sorry, I just can't get over that. I take a couple of weird breaths as I open and close my mouth, tying desperately to come up with something profound to say that will keep him from booting me out of his apartment.

Oh my God. I have lost my mind...or we've switched places. Maybe someone placed a curse on us, or I opened a magic fortune cookie or something - because in what world do I get worried about being kicked out of Newbie's apartment?! Certainly not this one.

Instead of opening the door for me to walk through, he simply sits on the floor against the door and drapes his arms over his bent knees. His head is turned away from me as he continues to smoke in silence. Oh. Okay. Fine then. I wasn't really _that_ worried. For some reason, seeing him plunk himself down like that, right next to that crumpled piece of paper - makes me think that's what he had been doing just before I knocked on the door. Just sitting there on the floor, listening to his depressing music. It reminds me of why I'm here...or why Carla thinks I'm here. I feel so useless and ill equipped.

I mean, look at him! This isn't the Newbie that I know...or knew. This isn't the same nervous, but hyper kid who just wanted to help and wanted to do well so badly that he wasn't afraid to ask any question that popped into his head or to follow me around like a puppy all day long. This isn't the same guy who would try so hard to please everyone and to make everyone happy that he would stay at work for hours just to read up on some disease or sit with a patient who was scared. Everyone has moods. I know that. Everyone has moments when they behave uncharacteristically and I get that. I probably shouldn't be standing here, looking at this person sitting on the floor wondering what could possibly have happened to change him so much. It might not be a permanent change. Maybe he's just in a rut or having a hard time adjusting to the move or to the changes in his friends' lives.

A lump forms in my throat. I take another sip of the water I almost forgot I had. I've turned into such a sissy. Big deal. So what if the boy seems to have lost that whimsy and bounce? Who cares if that happy-go-lucky spark seems to have vanished? I don't need to get all emotional over it. But, damn it - all I want to do is go over there and pull his head to my shoulder and tell him everything's going to be okay. Of course I'd probably mess that up. He'd flinch because he would probably think I was going to hit him or something and then think I was making fun of him instead of trying to comfort him. That turned out so well the last time I tried that.

It's clear to me that something is wrong. Regardless of how big or little that something is it's affecting him in a life changing way. He wipes at his face and I wonder if he's crying. I can't tell, his face is turned away. Since I'm the guy who decided to race over here after work, I guess I'm the guy who's supposed to do something about it. Whatever that means. I sigh and walk over to him and slide down the wall to sit next to him. The cigarettes are sitting on the floor next to him with the lighter tucked into the cellophane covering.

"Mind if I bum one?"

Aw hell, I have to connect with him somehow right? Don't judge me!

He turns his head lazily toward me, keeping it pointed down toward the floor. He shrugs and lightly pushes the pack closer to me. His hand is shaking. I take a cigarette out of the pack and hesitate briefly before lighting it. This is probably an incredibly stupid decision on my part. I haven't had one of these in forever and it was a bitch quitting in the first place. If I stop and buy a pack on the way home tonight I will kill Newbie.

He sniffs and wipes at his face again. He must be crying. He's been doing a lot of that lately, it seems. Suddenly I feel weird and exposed and I really wish Carla would just leave work early and get here. She's so much better at dealing with crying Newbies. Or at least, that's my guess. I'm actually not sure if he's allowed anyone to "deal" with his crying.

Damn this cigarette tastes good. The silence is really starting to get to me. The sound of the mournful music drifts over to us. How many times has the same song played? I wonder who the performer is and why he keeps listening to it. I don't like this kind of crap. It's too raw and emotive. He needs a tv so there could be a game playing in the background instead of this soulful junk. I need some kind of distraction so it's not just this one on one, heart to heart, touchy-feeling shit. I guess this is what I have to work with. I'm about to say something, but he speaks first.

"About a month ago I was held hostage in convenience store for over 18 hours."

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**Author's Note: Once again, I don't think the end result is _exactly _what I had in my head, but...not so far off that it's unrecognizable. I was going to have this be the last chapter, actually - but I decided that I _had_ to end with a JD POV and that I really wanted the full conversation be in his POV. I'm sorry that because of those semi last minute decisions, this chapter has become something of a literary hyphen...that made more sense in my head. Oh, well. I hope it's not too boring or repetitive. I know hardly anything actually happened and I'm sure you all were expecting something much more eventful and significant...I think I was too. It's ok. We'll live. Again, and as always - thanks for reading and for all the reviews so far. I am forever humbled and amazed ;)**


	19. Chapter 18: My Confession

**Disclaimer: I own nothing**

**Dr. Cox's POV**

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"About a month ago I was held hostage in convenience store for over 18 hours."

What? WHAT?! I have to force myself not to scream that question out loud. My head turns sharply to look at the kid. He keeps his gaze aimed down at his shaking hand, fiddling with the cigarette box. I can feel my mouth hanging open, which must be oh so attractive. I snap it closed and swallow. What? Hostage...what?!

This confession has obviously been a long time coming and I'm afraid that anything I say right now will do something to cause him to withdraw again. So I do the one thing I am the least known for doing. I sit quietly and listen. Or at least I try to. He's taken another drag and has lapsed into silence again. Maybe I am supposed to say something? Damn it, I hate not having the answers. I can hear his unexpected statement echo in my head. A month ago? Hostage? How did we not know? Or maybe everyone else knows and I'm the only one in the dark. No, you idiot. Those tweens wouldn't have been able to keep something like that in. And they were every bit as clueless as I was as to why Newbie was acting so odd. I guess I know now...sort of. Over 18 hours? My mind tries to form some inappropriate comment about Newbie being lucky he was wearing that Platex 18 hour bra...but I quickly squelch it down. You can feel the vulnerability coming off him in thick waves. Yet another reason why I should remain quiet. I can't always control what comes out of my mouth.

"He had a gun. I lost count of how many times he pointed it at me or pressed it to my head."

His voice was quiet, but not so much that I had to strain to hear him. It was remarkably steady...especially given what he was saying. I tried to picture a terrified Newbie at the hands of an angry gunman, which is actually a pretty difficult image to conjure up. As often as I've seen him tuck his tail between his legs and scamper off because of something threatening I said to him, I can't really think of a time when I've known him to be really and truly white-faced scared of anything.

"I had just met this man named Tim right before...before it happened. You may have seen him, actually. He came into the hospital today."

JD glanced up at me when he said it. Just barely. His voice had taken on an almost casual tone. He didn't seem able to hold eye contact, though and dropped his eyes back down. Tim. I guess Scarface has a real name.

"We were having a really nice conversation, too..."

You can actually see the kid drifting off in his mind. Come on, Newbie...don't fade away on me. But just when I thought I had lost him to another daydream, he cleared his throat and gave a small shake of his head. Probably clearing his thoughts.

"He um...Tim, that is...he had a heart attack. Right there on the floor of the travel plaza." He glanced at me again. "That's where we were, a travel plaza. I had stopped to get gas because the place I first pulled into only took cash and I didn't have any on me. Plus, I really wanted a slushie..." For a second a glimmer of the old Newbie flashed across his face. He cleared his throat again. "Anyway...he collapsed. John - uh, the uh...guy with the gun - he told me not to move. He had the gun pressed against my temple at the time. He was yelling. He thought Tim and I were planning something."

I watch as JD lifts a very shaky hand to his face, taking another drag. That should be one of the most bizarre and unnatural thing to witness, ever. But for some reason it's not. It seems to fit in an odd way...right now...at this moment. My arm twitches. I want to reach out and squeeze his arm, or shoulder, or something. I want to touch him in some reassuring way, but I don't really know how to go about that (being the emotionally retarded bastard that I am). So instead I just try to telepathically tell him I'm supporting him. I'm such an ass.

"Someone yelled out that Tim had lost consciousness and I sort of forgot that there was a gun held to my head, so I went to help him. John tried to shoot me, but missed. He hit Gary instead."

The kid's voice cracked on the last word and his shoulders started moving up and down as he began to sob quietly. This time, with instincts I didn't even know I had, I raise my hand and it hovers over his shoulder for a moment. Just as I'm about to actually touch the kid he sits up and takes a calming breath. My hand doesn't make it to his shoulder.

"I have been going to see Gary in the hospital...on my days off. I met his family. They were so nice to me...I couldn't tell them. I'm such a coward. I couldn't tell them that it was my fault he was there, in a hospital bed...in a coma. They even sent me flowers one day to thank me for being there for Gary. That was the day I found out that John had killed himself. The day the police came. John had written me a letter. I guess it was his suicide note in a way. Only, I don't think it was meant for anyone else to see."

Newbie dropped one arm down to the side and I watched his hand float over to the crumpled piece of paper I had noticed earlier on the floor. The suicide note. Ah...so that's what he was doing before I got here. I wonder how many times he's read that note.

"I found it in my wallet. John gave it back." He smiled slightly and stared off distantly. "He gave everything back he took that day...left everything in the car he stole. He even made a couple anonymous calls to the police for them to find it...and to find...him."

The smile was gone and replaced with a look of sadness - deep sadness. And something else, too...regret.

"He wasn't a bad guy. He was just...desperate."

I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from shaking him and telling him that he was wrong. John, or whatever the guy's name was, was the definition of a bad guy. He terrified a group of people for almost a full day at the barrel of a gun, and shot one of them. I can feel the unfamiliar sting of tears in my eyes and I try to convince myself it's because I'm biting my tongue too hard and not because it has just occurred to me that the bullet was meant for Newbie. God damn it! We all came so close to losing the kid and none of us had any idea.

"He died. Gary. That's what Tim came to tell me today. Gary died."

He was speaking quietly again, but as he spoke his breathing became quick and shallow, and his eyes started to blaze. What came out of his mouth next sounded sharp and poisonous.

"He died because I didn't think! He died because I didn't do as I was told."

I want to scream at him. I want to slap him across the face for thinking such an idiotic thought. Instead I just turn my body slightly so I'm facing him a bit more and shake my head.

"God! I don't know what to do, I don't know who I am anymore. I can't sleep. I barely eat. I can see everything when I close my eyes, when I go to sleep...it's all there. I come to work everyday and I feel like I'm living some sort of elaborate lie. It's like I'm pretending to be fine. I'm pretending to be a Doctor when I'm really a...a killer! Gary's dead, John's dead...and nothing make sense!"

The kid is working himself up. The tears are dripping down his nose and splashing on to hands that are shaking even more than they already were. His face is red and his jaw his clenched. He looks like it's taking all his strength to not explode right here in front of me, but he still just sits on the floor. He's just sitting there, staring down, not looking at me. Maybe he forgot I was here. He may as well be talking to himself...a lot of help I'm being.

As we sit there in silence I start to think he might be done with his little confessional. And this is where the uneasiness sets in. This is where I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to do something - say something profound and wise. But I'm drawing a blank and all I can think about is how I've been treating him this past month. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth and I swear someone has dropped a rock into my stomach. My cigarette burned out a long time ago. I swallow thickly and run a hand through my hair.

"JD, I...why didn't you tell us?" I hope to God that didn't sound accusing. I have to fight the urge not to hold my breath while I wait for his response. He sighs and leans back against the wall.

"I tried to talk about it when I first got back. The audit was going on, and everyone was already pissed off when I came back to work. No one wanted to hear me talk about my stupid vacation. And now I don't want to drag anyone else into this...black hole that I've fallen into, so I just keep pushing everyone away. At first I did what I always do, which is run around practically begging anyone I see to talk to me." He let out a wry chuckle. "I even tried talking to the Janitor. When that didn't work I just...shut down."

He's quiet for a moment. I'm thankful for the silence. It gives me time to let it all sink in. I think I must be in some kind of shock. I know there is so much more to this that he hasn't mentioned yet, so many more details. Already the information I've just heard is overwhelming. I can vaguely remember him trying to get me to talk to him a couple of times those first couple of days. I had no idea! How was I supposed to know he actually had something like this to talk about? This isn't my fault is it?

Damn it. Who cares whose fault it is. It's not going to do either one of us any good if I sit around placing blame. He's clearly already done some serious blame misplacement of his own. We're going to have to work on that. We're going to have to work on a lot of things it seems. And for the love of God, since when did I start thinking of anything going on with Jessica as a "we" situation?

I hear the lighter flicking. Glancing over at JD, watching him light another cigarette with all this new information banging around in my head is enough to make me want to bolt for the door. But considering we're both sitting in front of the door. I guess that wouldn't work so well. So instead I just stare at him like I've suddenly lost the ability to verbally communicate. He's still shaking. I guess I would be too. He said he wasn't sleeping well, and I have to say that one has been pretty obvious - never more so than right now. His skin doesn't look like the proper shade of...whatever color ghostly white human skin is supposed to be. The shadows under his eyes could have been painted on like a football player. He said he hasn't been eating well - also not a surprise. I guess he wasn't lying when he said he wasn't sick, though. At least, not in the way I was thinking. His fingers look too bony holding that cigarette, and his cheekbones probably shouldn't be quite that prominent. He looks worn and exhausted. Broken.

His image becomes blurry in front of me and I realize my eyes have welled up. Again. This shouldn't be affecting me this much. It's not like I just lost 3 patients or anything. It's Newbie. I degrade him, call him girls names, flick him in the ear, shove him in the shoulder...I don't...tear up over some ridiculous dramatic sob story about a freak hostage situation that somehow didn't even make it to the news around here. Not that I would know, come to think of it. It's not like I watch the news or read the paper. I'm a doctor for God's sake. I don't have that kind of time. Besides, I'd rather watch my soap than see what kind of violent, mindless shit is happening out there in the world.

He tried to tell us. He went to me for help, or to just unload, and what did I do? I pushed him away and didn't listen to him. We all did. We were all so caught up in the stupid audit. I was so angry with Kelso and of course took it out on the kid, as always. This is all too much. And if it's all too much for me, I can't imagine what it's like for JD. The thought is jarring enough to cause me to do the unthinkable. I reach out and grab the back of his neck and gently pull him towards me so our shoulders are touching. Yes, even I know the importance of a comforting touch.

I can feel his shoulders shake as he leans into me. He rests his head on my shoulder, and I let him. Once again I find myself struggling with what to say to the kid. For someone who likes to talk as much as I do, it's amazing that I can't find any words at all. Dig deep, Perry. The kid needs you now.

It's such a relief to feel his shoulders steadying and his head lift off of my shoulder that I almost sign audibly. I let my hand slide off the back of his neck. He clears his throat and sniffs. I bet he needs a tissue.

"You're gonna be okay." I wasn't sure if I was asking a question or making a statement. It must have been a statement because he didn't respond.

"The funeral is on Wednesday. I'm going."

I nod and stare at his profile for a few seconds.

"JD-"

"No." he cuts me off. "You really don't need to say anything. I'm sorry, I know this is probably driving you crazy...all this...girlie-"

"JD." it's my turn to cut him off. He stops talking and blinks at me. "JD, you have to believe...I mean...you have to know that none of what happened was your fault." He blinks at me and then stares back at his hands. I see a few more tears splash them. "Look at me." He obeys. "You didn't do this. You can't keep going like this, blaming yourself...playing the 'what if' game. You can't. You know you can't. I don't know how to make this better for you. There is no quick fix and this is something you're going to be struggling with for a long time. But I know that if you don't get off the path you're heading down then..." I don't know how to finish that sentence, and I doubt I really needed to.

I watch the kid carefully. He dropped eye contact already and I can see him swallow hard. Be patient, Perry. Wait for it...

Sure enough, there's a slight nod. I put a hand on his shoulder and give it a small shake. He takes a deep, shuddering breath and nods again. This time the nod had a little more conviction to it. I shake his shoulder once more, just for good measure, before removing my hand. All of a sudden I notice that I'm starting to feel a little cramped from sitting around on the floor, so I pull myself up onto my feet. Reaching a hand out, I pull Newbie up as well.

"How about we go grab a bite to eat, Katrina."

He looks a little unsure, but nods. "O-okay. Just let me throw some shoes on and grab my wallet."

I allow my eyes to roam around the room some more while he's doing that and I spot the radio.

"And for God's sake, Silvia - turn off this depressing music!"

When he emerges from his room he actually has a slight smile on his face. He looks almost embarrassed as he flicks the switch on the radio.

"Tess gave it to me," he mumbles. "It's soulful."

Soulful? I roll my eyes and wait for him to walk in front of me to open the door. "There will be no soulful music in my car on the way, just so you're aware. And I'm picking the restaurant. I will order for you if necessary." I throw an arm loosely across his shoulders as we made our way out of his apartment and tried my best to keep the conversation light. We would have to revisit his hostage experience later, but for now I think we both have had quite enough drama.

"You're not the boss of me."

I can't help but smile despite myself. Hearing Newbie joke around with some of that light heartedness back in his voice is down right cheerful.

"Careful, Matilda."

"What are you gonna do about it? I yelled at Kelso today. I am invincible!"

I think he's going to be okay.

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**Author's note: Wow. That took decades longer than I thought and it's still not the way I wanted it. I've stopped and started on it so many times that I think it's lost it's flow. It probably doesn't work as well as it would have if I had just written it immediately following the last chapter. But there you have it. Just one more chapter and I'll be done...now...if only I could get back to work on Carefree No Longer... **


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